In all this excitement I thought it would be a compelling trip down memory lane to uncover how the nation celebrated July 4th through the years, and how our sites, Ferry Farm and Historic Kenmore, joined in on the festivities.
A banner from the Market Square Fair of 1976, HFFI image collection.
1826 marked the 50th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Nationwide, celebrations were small and consisted of mostly military parades and private dinners. Charlottesville, Virginia and Quincy, Massachusetts had sad news to report, though. Both Thomas Jefferson and John Adams passed away that day within hours of one another.[1]
In Fredericksburg, Virginia, the celebration echoed the others—a military salute in the morning and a large dinner at Sligo, a mansion located on the south side of town.[2]
A man named Samuel Gordon owned Kenmore at the time.[3] Their family had recently experienced some happiness when the future owners William and Eliza Gordon married on May 8th of that year. Although we do not know what their family plans were on the 4th, we can assume that it was a pleasant day.
Across the river, the Mercer family owned Ferry Farm and rented the property out to tenants. Although we have no known depictions of what it looked like in 1826, seven years later the artist John Gadsby Chapman would paint the foundations of the Washington house, reclaimed by nature.[4] That year in September, the Mercers listed Ferry Farm for sale.
“View from the Old Mansion House of the Washington Family Near Fredericksburg, Virginia” (1833) by John Gadsby Chapman. Mount Vernon Ladies Association.
July 4th, 1876: 100 Years Old
Our 100th anniversary also coincided with the first year that the US was the host of a World’s Fair– the Centennial Exposition. Tourists from across the 38 states flocked to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to celebrate year-round.[5]
Because the country was celebrating together in Philadelphia, many local celebrations were relaxed, Fredericksburg included. Social organization the Knights of Pythias hosted a large picnic on Scotts Island, today beneath the Chatham Bridge. The Virginia Herald called it “a festive day of rare delight, nothing occurring to… disturb the era of good feeling”.[6]
Unfortunately, both Ferry Farm and Kenmore have a gap in their history on this date, both left marred by the Civil War. Kenmore was bloodstained due to its use as a hospital and Ferry Farm was barren after the union camp burnt what few dwellings were left for firewood. Although our nation was trying to move on a decade later, plenty of scars remained.
View of Ferry Farm circa 1881. National Parks Service.
July 4th, 1926: 150 Years Old
The roaring 20s were in full swing and once again Philadelphia was the place to be! Another World’s Fair, 50 years after the first, was held to celebrate the Sesquicentennial.
Locally, it seems almost nothing was organized to mark the day, aside from a few baseball games. During what ended up being a rainy weekend, the people of Fredericksburg kept it lowkey.[8]
Left: Kenmore’s exhibit at the Philadelphia Exposition, GWF Collection. Right: Kenmore’s medal of award, GWF Collection.
July 4th, 1976: 200 Years Old
We’re now reaching the point that some of our readers can recall, the nation’s bicentennial in 1976. Instead of one large exposition, the American Revolution Bicentennial Administration was founded to spread the commemoration across the country.[10]
American Revolution Bicentennial Logo, Wikimedia Commons.
Fredericksburg was no exception, festivities were planned for the whole year leading up to the fourth, and a massive weekend celebration took place across town. A parade stretched down Princess Anne Street and many organizations, clubs, and local figures marched in it. Historic sites like Kenmore were open all day for tours, showcasing local history intertwining with the nation’s.[11]
Left: The Bicentennial Parade on Princess Anne Street, the Free Lance-Star. Right: Russell Bastedo, former director of the Kenmore Association, posing next to a Kenmore cake, Central Rappahannock Heritage Center collection.
After the parade, folks headed down to the city dock where the Historic Fredericksburg Foundation and the Fredericksburg Bicentennial Commission hosted a carnival.
Newspaper advertisement for the city dock carnival, The Free Lance-Star.
This year is perhaps one of the most celebrated milestones yet, since the excitement seems to increase with each passing decade. We are all coming together to commemorate the birth of our United States once more, and this time much of the focus is on elevating voices that have previously been ignored and celebrating histories that were once forgotten. We’ve come a long way from the private and solemn affairs of 200 years ago!
America 250 logo.
I’m happy to say that, finally, Ferry Farm will get its place in the sun on this holiday. Our foundation’s Fourth of July celebration will be taking place on Saturday, July 4th at the boyhood home of George Washington, the land that shaped who he became. For those of you reading this today, we hope to see you there. For those of you reading this in the future, let’s do it all again for 2076!
Sarah Alden, Manager of Visitor Services and Interpretation
[2] (The Fiftieth Anniversary of American Independence, 1826)
[3] Mutual Assurance Society, plat for policy 4239, November or December 1822, to Samuel Gordon; plat for policy 6126, 31 December 1829, to Samuel Gordon; plat for policy 6126, 31 December 1829, to Samuel Gordon; and plat for policy 9313, 15 November 1836, to Samuel Gordon; Virginia State Library, Richmond, Virginia; reproduced in Troup, pp. 146-151.
Special thanks to the team at Historic Fredericksburg Foundation, The Virginiana Room at the Fredericksburg Library, and Central Rappahannock Heritage Center for providing access to their collections and assisting in the research process.
This time of year, I find it difficult not to reach into my freezer after dinner to get a cold, sweet dairy treat. Ice cream in cartons and scooped from behind a counter has become a part of the American experience. Ice cream was not always so easy to come by, however, as the ingredients and tools to make it were reserved for the most elite part of the population.
Ice cream has a complicated past that is often exaggerated, misinterpreted, and associated with individuals that probably have nothing to do with the creation of the icy treat. In the 20th century, companies fabricated a great deal of these origin stories to help sell this delicacy. Stories range from Ancient Rome to Martha Washington and Dolley Madison, some of which contain bits of truth, but are now inflated into full blown myths.
A “Dolly Madison” branded electric ice cream freezer, along with packaging for commercially made Dolly Madison Ice Cream. Source: The Montpelier Foundation.
Here is what foodways historians believe to be true based on the evidence we do have. The earliest known description of a frozen dairy product comes from China in the 7th Century. It most likely was not the recipe for this specific dessert that traveled the Silk Road to Europe, but the concept of freezing liquids using a combination of ice and salt. This combination creates an endothermic effect which draws heat from outside air that lowers the temperature of the ice to the point that it is able to freeze liquids, not just keep them cold. To put this discovery into perspective, humans discovered how to utilize fire about 790,000 years ago, but it was only about 1,400 years ago that humans discovered how to use cold in a similar fashion.[i]
Moving forward to Colonial North America, ice cream recipes were not hard to come by as even Hannah Glasse had a recipe “To Make Ice-Cream” in her popular book The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy.[ii] Thomas Jefferson, extensive traveler that he was, even recorded a recipe for vanilla ice cream, helping to establish its popularity in the English American colonies and new republic.[iii] Ice cream flavors usually depended on seasonal fruits that were easy to mash, but more interesting and savory flavors like parmesan and oyster also made their way into recipe books of the period.
“To Make Ice-Cream” from The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy by Hannah Glasse Source: Library of Congress.
Thomas Jefferson’s recipe for ice cream. Written in his hand. Source: Library of Congress.
So, if it wasn’t availability of recipes and the concept of freezing the cream to make the dessert that stopped Americans from making this treat to cool off in the summer, then what was it? It was the capability of keeping ice, the labor it took to churn the cream by hand, the expensive imported ingredients, and the specialty serving pieces needed to put the frozen delight on the table for guests.
At this time, if you wanted ice, you had to harvest it from frozen lakes, ponds, or rivers in the winter. Anyone could do that, but preserving it was the challenge. Underground ice houses specifically built to preserve the ice until the warmer months were reserved for the elite.
Also remember that colonists had to typically import both the sugar to sweeten the cream and the salt for the ice. Both white sugar and salt were used sparingly. So, a recipe meant to show off using a liberal amount of both was something many could not afford to waste resources on.
Ingredients used to make strawberry ice cream. Source: The George Washington Foundation.
Ice cream could be made using either a pewter vessel or a specialty sorbetiere. A sorbetiere was a French invention made specifically for ice cream production that was essentially just a copper container with a lid. Either the sorbetiere or pewter bowl with the ice cream mixture was placed into a container of ice and salt. The container was then churned, occasionally stopping to scrape the mixture off the sides when it began to freeze. This process is not unlike what happens in both hand crank and electric ice cream makers from modern times, but all done by hand. On a Southern plantation wealthy enough to afford the ice, sugar, salt, and tools to make the ice cream, they’d also have to spare the time of an enslaved laborer for an hour or more to churn the dessert by hand.
(Left) Churning the ice cream. Source: Emma Schlauder. (Center & Right) Copper sorbetiere. Source: The George Washington Foundation.
George and Martha Washington were possibly introduced to ice cream by the Royal Governor of Virginia, Lord Botetourt in 1770 at the Governor’s Palace in Williamsburg, where there is evidence of an ice house and ice molds used in the production of ice cream.[iv] Following George’s introduction to ice cream, he ordered an ice house to be built at Mount Vernon and he acquired a “cream machine for ice” and other items to help make and serve ice cream to guests.[v] Martha Washington was known for hosting gatherings during George’s presidency where she served prestigious treats like Lemonade and ice cream, as noted by Abigail Adams in 1789.[vi]
Ice house at Mount Vernon. Source: Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association.
When I prepare for Taste Through Time Programs, I always look for evidence of what I am making at both Kenmore and Ferry Farm. Unfortunately, there is really no evidence of ice cream being served at either property during the occupation of the Washington and Lewis families. Despite the presence of The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy in Fielding Lewis’ probate inventory and loaves of white sugar in Betty Lewis’, there is currently no evidence of ice houses or ice cream making and serving equipage at either Kenmore or Ferry Farm from this period.
[ii] Glasse, H., Katherine Golden Bitting Collection On Gastronomy & Elizabeth Robins Pennell Collection. (1805) The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy; Excelling Any Thing of the Kind Ever Yet Published … Also, the Order of a Bill of Fare for Each Month in the Manner the Dishes Are to Be Placed Upon the Table, in the Present Taste. Alexandria: Printed by Cottom and Stewart, and sold at their Book-Stores, in Alexandria and Fredericksburg. [Pdf] Retrieved from the Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/05005034/.
[iv] Theobald, M. M., Some Stone Cold Historical Facts.
[v] Ledger B (photostat, Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association), 198a.
[vi] “Abigail Adams to Mary Smith Cranch, 9 August 1789,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/04-08-02-0214. [Original source: The Adams Papers, Adams Family Correspondence, vol. 8, March 1787 – December 1789, ed. C. James Taylor, Margaret A. Hogan, Jessie May Rodrique, Gregg L. Lint, Hobson Woodward, and Mary T. Claffey. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007, pp. 397–401.]
Beginning on Monday, April 27th and continuing for the next 11 weeks, archaeologists will once again be outside working onsite at Ferry Farm, George Washington’s Boyhood Home. Our current excavations are centered on an eighteenth-century kitchen located on the north side of the work yard approximately 50 feet from the main house. This wood-framed building, 16’ by 16’ in plan with an Aquia stone foundation and full cellar, would have been a hub of activity on the farm landscape and understanding its place within this landscape is important to our interpretation of life on the Washington farm.
Figure 1. Our kitchen site is located beneath the blue tarp just northeast of the main house.
We began last year’s excavation season by uncovering and exposing the entirety of the site, which had been sealed 28 years ago with a protective layer of sand. Exposed was a 16’ square stone foundation to a cellar filled with burnt household and architectural debris. For our excavation plan, we divided the cellar fill into four quadrants and were able to excavate two of them down to the level of the cellar floor over the course of our season. One of the quadrants had previously been excavated in the 1990s, leaving one more quadrant to dig this summer.
Figure 2. The eighteenth-century kitchen stone wall foundation, intruded upon by twentieth- century concrete foundations.
From the burned fill came an unexpected bounty of artifacts. Hundreds of fragments of glass wine bottles and ceramic storage containers were sifted through our screens, along with buckets of burned architectural debris such as plaster, mortar, and wrought nails of all sizes. A smaller number of more delicate artifacts also surprisingly survived, such as straight pins, animal bones, leaded tableware glass, buttons, box hinges, small copper drawer pulls, and even a concentrated deposit of eggshells!
Figure 3. A large wine bottle base being excavated out of the kitchen cellar fill.
Excavation also continued outside of and around the kitchen foundation as we searched for additional clues to the architectural footprint of the building. From these units we found artifacts ranging in age from 6500 BC to modern day. Native American projectile points and flint-knapping debitage, colonial-era ceramics, Civil War bullets, and twentieth-century household remains were all dug up in the various soil layers covering this part of the site.
Our archaeology lab has been very busy for the last nine months cleaning and sorting all the artifacts that were found last summer. Understanding the types of artifacts found will aid in our interpretation of how the building was used, its construction details, its role in the farm landscape, and, hopefully, the date it burned down!
Figure 4. Glass wine bottles and stoneware crocks are washed and dried in the lab before being sorted and catalogued.
Our field crew will be on site weekdays from April 27th to July 10th. Once again students from the University of South Florida will be here to learn the basics of archaeology field work during the months of May and June. We welcome all visitors to ask questions and enjoy the opportunity to help us sift for artifacts!
Postcards were a staple of vacations. Collected and sent back to friends and family so they could be part of your adventures. Many of us can remember trying to pick up postcards on the first day of vacation to get them in the mail quickly so they would arrive back home before you.
Postcards were created in the mid-nineteenth century, and through the decades, they were mass-produced with popular scenic images and were inexpensive, so many people picked up postcards to document their vacations rather than taking pictures. Their popularity and collectability mean that boxes and boxes of old postcards can be found in antique stores and flea markets.
While postcards are amusing souvenirs and a source of nostalgia, they can also offer us important insights into the evolution of historic sites and cities. Postcards of Kenmore have helped us document the restoration of the house, the development of the property, and past interpretations, even providing documentation of collection items for which we may not have records.
For your enjoyment, I’ve selected some of my favorite postcards to showcase how they’ve documented the historical restoration and interpretation of Kenmore.
Exterior: Pre-Restoration
Kenmore has always been quite the showpiece, even when it was privately owned. One of the earliest postcards of Kenmore’s exterior is dated 1908, as indicated by the postmark. The Howard family owned the house until it was acquired by E.G. Heflin around 1914.
The postcard shows the house from the Washington Avenue side (west elevation) and provides a glimpse of the properties before any restoration work. The old kitchen can be seen on the north side of the house, while the exact date it was built is unknown; we know it was built in the late 1880s or early 1890s. It was torn down in 1929.
Additionally, the exterior brick has been painted, along with the lintel, which was removed in 1929. We can see the paintwork better in the second color postcard.
Interior
Entrance Hall
One of the earliest postcards we have of the entrance hall, around 1923. One of the most notable things is the plasterwork on the ceiling. If you see current pictures of the entrance, you will notice that this plasterwork no longer exists. The plasterwork was done by former resident William Key Howard, Jr., when he was restoring the original ceiling in the other rooms. In 1930, the Association decided to remove the plasterwork because it was not original to the Lewis family. Mr. Howard Jr. was not happy when he found out that the plasterwork had been destroyed and called it an act of vandalism.
Additionally, we can see next to the tall case clock a door that leads into the drawing room, which no longer exists. It was decided that this was not the original placement, and the door was moved directly across from the office door in 1930.
Chamber/NW room, first floor
While we currently interpret the NW room on the first floor as the chamber, the ladies referred to it as the Dining Room. We can see a round table, a sideboard, two chairs, and two portraits, plus a large silver tea urn. The postcard dates from the late 1930s because we know from our records that most of these pieces were donated in 1935. We still have all these objects in the collection, but the only things currently on display to the public are the round table in the dining room and the chairs in the drawing room. All other pieces are in storage.
Dining Room/NE room, first floor
We currently refer to the NE room on the first floor as the dining room. It has undergone many changes, with Gothic arches added to the closets during the 19th century, and has been restored to its original shape. Not everything in the postcard is still in our collection, but you can see the square table still on display in the dining room, and Betty’s portrait is now in the drawing room.
On the left is the Dining Room during the Howard occupation around the 1890s, and on the right, the Dining Room todayThe Dining Room after the Kenmore Association’s restoration, c. 1940s
Drawing Room/SE room, first floor
The drawing room was previously known as the library and also served as a chamber for a while in the 1980s. By the window, you can see Betty’s desk in the older postcard (c.1940s), which is still on display, but in the chamber. We still have the tea set on display where it was in the chamber, but it is currently in storage.
On the left is the Drawing Room during the Howard occupation around the 1890s, and on the right is the Drawing Room nowDrawing Room, c.1940sIn the 1980s the Drawing Room was turned into a bedroom
Office/SW room, first floor
Fielding’s office has been displayed as a sitting room and a kids’ room. We don’t have many of the objects in the postcards still in the collection, except the corner chair, which now has a check seat, and the music stand, which is too fragile at the moment for display.
2nd floor
We currently do not offer tours of the upstairs area because we don’t put too much stress on our lovely plaster ceilings. The Kenmore Association interpreted the upstairs as individual bedrooms for the family, which is not the most historically accurate version.
Hallway/ 2nd floor
Besides the paint color, the hallways upstairs remain structurally the same. The ladies have Betty’s desk on display, with the Hammond quilt above. We still have the Hammond quilt; fortunately, we removed it from the frame, but it is a massive quilt and is not currently on display. However, it is in excellent condition. As for the tall case clock, chandelier, and curtains, they have been lost to history.
“Mary Washington Bedroom”/NE room/2nd floor
We have no evidence that Mary ever had a dedicated bedroom at Betty’s house, and it seems unlikely with the size of the Lewis family. We do still have some of the pieces in the collection. The tea box is currently on display in the chamber, and the yellow tea set has been displayed intermittently over the years. The two calendar prints hung on the wall are now downstairs in the drawing room. Lastly, the chaise lounge was loaned to the foundation by the Metropolitan Museum of Art in the 1930s (subsequently purchased in 1968) and is currently in storage, as there is no evidence that the Lewis family owned many northern furniture pieces.
“Mary’s Bedroom” is currently storage with temporary covering to protect the original floors.
“Guest Bedroom”/NW room/2nd floor
Much like “Mary’s bedroom,” it is very unlikely that the Lewis family had a “guest room,” with as large as the family was, it would have been a waste of space. The bed still resides in our collection, disassembled and in storage.
“Betty’s bedroom”/SE room/2nd floor
Again, during the Lewis occupation in the 18th century, individual bedrooms were not common, except for the head of the family. Not many of the objects in the postcard are still in our collection, except for the bed, which is now in the chamber downstairs, and the William Walker, Jr. armchair, which is currently off display, but we do have another one in the dining room.
“Betty’s bedroom (2nd floor SE) is currently used as storage…and some Twelfth Night decorations
“Boy’s Room”/SW room/2nd floor
The last room upstairs is smaller than the other rooms and has access to the attic. The ladies used this as the boys’ room, but as we discussed, with the other rooms, it is unlikely that this was accurate. We do still have many of the pieces’ pictures, but the only one currently on display is the slant-top desk in the Visitors Center.
When you visit Historic Kenmore today, you will find a preserved city block with gardens and pathways reaching from front to back. The tranquil estate is only interrupted by two other houses along Lewis Street, hidden behind a tree line. These buildings remain the only surviving evidence of a time when Kenmore’s block was almost swallowed up by modern developments.
Although we have spoken at length on this blog about how Kenmore was saved from being turned into apartments (here, here, and here), we have not yet covered the houses that had, in fact, already gone up before Mrs. Emily Fleming and “Miss Annie” Fleming-Smith had even begun their fundraising.
In 1914, Kenmore was sold by the Howard family, the last private residents of Kenmore, to Elmer “Peck” Heflin, a prolific land developer in Fredericksburg. By the end of the year, Heflin had already subdivided Kenmore into several lots and began to sell them off.
A newspaper advertisement placed by Heflin in The Daily Star, November 1914.
His goal was ultimately to turn the Kenmore block into a picturesque and modern housing development complete with single-family houses, apartments, driveways, and a parkway. This was illustrated for all of Fredericksburg to see in another newspaper ad from 1921 (Heflin, 1921). Heflin’s vision for the court was a 20th century city developer’s dream, squeezing as many lots as he could get into the space and ensuring that automobiles could have access to the entire area. Cutting edge, efficient, and shockingly modern.
“Kenmore Court” plans with “Kenmore Residence” at the center, The Daily Star, January 1921
By the time this advertisement ran, at least two of the proposed twenty lots had already been built on and three more had been sold to future homeowners. The earliest developments were done along the 1200 block of Winchester Street (which runs along the top of the illustrated plan).
A fire insurance map from 1919 showing the two new houses and Kenmore. (Sanborn Map Co., 1919).
It was possibly this very newspaper ad with the proposed plan, seen by Mrs. Fleming and Miss Annie, that shocked them into action to save Kenmore before it was too late. However, even though they had finished their payments to Heflin by 1925 and officially owned the Kenmore mansion, they had yet to undo the sales that had already been made.
Between 1919 and 1927, another five houses went up along Winchester St. and an additional one along Lewis St. The lots in the 1200 block of Winchester were now completely filled.
A fire insurance map from 1927 showing the Kenmore block with nine total houses and a now preserved Kenmore listed as “(Shrine)”. (Sanborn Map Cp., 1927)
Although the Kenmore Association now owned the Kenmore great house and had successfully saved it from demolition, they also valued the physical beauty that the surrounding land had potential for. The new houses were taking up space that could be gardens, reminiscent of what the original grounds may have looked like. But now, they only contained a view into several family’s backyards.
Kenmore Gardens Pre-Restoration as seen from the portico of the Kenmore great house, photo from the George Washington Foundation Collection.
The Kenmore Auxiliary for the Reclaiming of Land formed to buy back the sold lots (Whidden, 1972). By 1930 they had already purchased two of the houses, 1206 and 1208 Winchester, and two empty lots on Cornell Street, just a few blocks north. By 1931, the houses were physically moved from Winchester St. to Cornell St.
“House Moved Through Town” article appeared in the Washington Post, Dec. 1930.
The Kenmore Association continued to rent these houses out for some time to tenants, generating extra income to help with Kenmore’s preservation process, until they eventually sold the homes to private owners. These Cornell St. houses still exist to this day. Few changes have been made from their historical exteriors.
The Cornell St. houses as they appear in the present day. (City of Fredericksburg, 2025)The Cornell St. houses as they appear in the present day. (City of Fredericksburg, 2025)
With the assistance of donations from individuals and foundations all over the country, the Kenmore Association was able to raise enough money to make offers to three other homeowners along the 1200 block of Winchester St., all of whom accepted. Most of Winchester St. belonged to the Association by the end of the decade (Whidden, 1972). The houses continued to be rented out to tenants through 1940. Unfortunately, after that year we have not yet discovered what happen to the Winchester St. houses, but they no longer exist on the revised 1947 fire insurance map and are presumed to have been demolished around 1941 or ‘42.
A fire insurance map from 1947 showing revisions made between 1927 and then. (Sanborn Map Co., 1948)
You notice that there are still three houses remaining on the block alongside the Kenmore great house. These holdouts remained for many years as private residences. Two of these houses, 605 Lewis St. and 1200 Winchester St., can still be seen today.
1200 Winchester St. is a large brick façade building that was originally constructed for Dr. Frank Pratt. Dr. Pratt used to treat patients in the building’s basement and lived in the house until his passing in 1964. He founded the Pratt Medical Group in 1937, which still exists today with several locations in Fredericksburg and Spotsylvania (Obituary, 1969). His house was sold in 1991 by the last private owners, the Westfall family, to the Kenmore Association and has become one of the main office buildings on the site.
1200 Winchester St. Pre 1990s. Photo from the George Washington Foundation Collection. 1200 Winchester St. in 2025. 2025 photo credit to Allison Ellis.
605 Lewis St. has a very similar story to 1200 Winchester. Another brick structure, it was built for William Lacy who lived there with his wife Norah, daughter Celia, and sister-in-law Celia Goolrick. Lacy was a pharmacist who passed away in 1933, leaving his home to his wife. She and her sister continued living in the house until both had passed by 1965 (Obituary, 1965). The building was sold to the Kenmore Association in 1992 and converted to offices as well.
605 Lewis St. Pre 1990s. Photo from the George Washington Foundation Collection605 Lewis St. in 2025. 2025 photo credit to Allison Ellis
The house I’ve saved for last has quickly become my favorite, since it’s the one that sparked my interest in this subject in the first place. While visiting a small antique shop in central New York of all places, I stumbled on a postcard with an image of 1216 Winchester St., also known as the Wilson House.
The Wilson House on a postcard, circa 1921-1941. From the George Washington Foundation Collection.
The Wilson house was the only Stucco house of the bunch, constructed in the prairie style. It was owned by Thomas Wilson, co-founder of Wilson Bros. Lumber. He, his wife Temple, Daughter Esther, and granddaughter Janet all lived in the house in 1930. By 1940, it had become a boarding house that rented out space to tenants and visitors. It had at least three units inside of it.
The Wilson house sat on the corner of Fauquier and Winchester streets, blocking Kenmore’s new brick wall originally meant to extend around the block, until 1971. I don’t know what changed that year, whether it was a death or shift in the family or if the money finally became too good of an offer to refuse, but the Wilson family finally sold their home to the Kenmore Association, who promptly had it razed (Whidden, 1972). The brick wall was never full finished, and the area where this beautiful house once stood is now used as a service lot.
The Wilson House, 1216 Winchester St., shortly before its demolition, from the George Washington Foundation Collection.Lot where the Wilson House formerly sat, 2025
There are countless other things that could be said about these missing structures that haunt the property. The stories of the people who lived in them. A debate about whether these modern homes were worthy of preservation as well. The archaeological damage that their construction likely caused. So on and so forth. One thing is certain though: the grounds of Kenmore hold history. Not just of the Lewis family, but of the Pratts, the Wilsons, the Lacys, the Franklins, the Coxes, the Joneses, and the countless others who once lived on this city block.
Sarah Alden
Manager of Visitor Services and Interpretation
Bibliography
City of Fredericksburg. (2025). 806 Cornell St. Fredericksburg: Fredericksburg Information Technology.
City of Fredericksburg. (2025). 808 Cornell St. Fredericksburg: Fredericksburg Information Technology.
Heflin, E. (1921, January 24). Modern Homes. The Daily Star, 28(180), 4.
Lots on Beautiful Kenmore Court. (1914, November 12). The Daily Star, 22(119), 2. Fredericksburg, VA.
Obituary. (1965, May 19). Mrs. W. J. Lacy Dies in Atlanta, Rites Thursday. The Free Lance-Star, p. 5.
Obituary. (1969, May 10). Monday Rites for Mrs. Pratt. The Free Lance-Star.
We are heading into the final stretch of this year’s exploration of the 18th-century kitchen at George Washington’s Ferry Farm, and it definitely hasn’t disappointed! The finds are getting bigger and better as we continue excavating deeper into the cellar and expand our look into the surrounding area. We have made a ton of progress that wouldn’t have been possible without the help of our crew of the George Washington Foundation staff, interns, and University of South Florida field school students. While there are still a few weeks before the official end of the dig on July 11. Just in case you missed them, here are some quick introductions and fun finds from the 2025 field school and crew.
Left to right: Judy, Danielle, Abby, Sarah, Alaina, Alaina S., Sofia, Addie
Field School
“Hi, my name is Alaina Scapicchio, and I am a Ph.D. candidate in the Department of History at the University of South Florida. This is my third summer digging at Ferry Farm. My favorite moment of the summer was excavating a partially intact pig jaw!”
-Alaina
“Hi! My name is Addie, I am a history and anthropology student at the University of South Florida. My favorite artifact to find are the animal bones.”
-Addie
“Hi, my name is Alaina. I am studying history at USF. My favorite part of the field school was digging in the kitchen because of how many cool artifacts we found. My favorite artifact was the piece of the Bartmann jug!”
-Alaina
“Sofia Almeida is a first-year History PhD student at the University of South Florida. Her research focuses on historic cemeteries, public history, and memory. One of her favorite parts of field school was digging in the kitchen cellar. One of her favorite artifacts this season was a decorated fragment of Staffordshire ceramic.”
-Sofia
GWF Interns
“Hey! My name is Abby! I am a recent graduate from UVA and am planning to pursue a career in archaeology. I enjoy reading and playing Ultimate Frisbee in my free time. My favorite artifact that I helped find this season was a projectile point with jagged edges.”
-Abby
“Hey all, my name’s Max Puckett. I’m a senior at the University of Mary Washington, currently pursuing a BA in Historic Preservation. In my spare time, I like to cook, research, and read. I’ve really loved this field season so far- we are pulling out a ton of interesting and exciting artifacts.”
-Max
Sarah came to Ferry Farm as a VCU student in the summer of 2014 and has been in over half a dozen summer digs since then. This year’s dig is very special to her because it is focused on the cellar of the Washington kitchen. Her favorite artifacts from this dig are the ones that can actually be paired and mended with each other because much of what collapsed in the kitchen fire was left in place and not scattered or missing.
-Sara
GWF Staff
I have been involved with the Ferry Farm Archaeology Department since 2012, when my youngest twins graduated from high school. I started out as a volunteer but then took on a part-time position cataloguing artifacts from the summer digs, which then turned into a full-time job as a lab assistant. I have been co-field director since 2019. I have a BA in Anthropology and an MA in Historical Archaeology, with past jobs in cultural resource management and historic sites, such as Mount Vernon. Though I really enjoy pulling out the handfuls of wine bottle necks and bases, I do find it more awe-inspiring when we pick out the tiniest and fragile eggshell fragments among the rubble and debris inside the kitchen cellar.
-Judy Jobrack
“Hello! I’m Danielle, and I have been at Ferry Farm since 2022, first as an intern and then lab assistant and co-field director. As a UMW Historic Preservation alum, I love all things old, both above ground and below, so this year’s dig has been particularly exciting with all the architectural bits we have been finding. With that said, I think my favorite artifact so far has been a brass/copper button –metal with verdigris is just so cool!”
-Danielle Arens
Though some of our crew is leaving, the rest of us will be digging every weekday until July 11, so be sure to come say hi and see what new things we have uncovered!
A Personal Look At Civil War Soldiers As Told Through Artifacts
Ferry Farm is most well-known as the Boyhood home of George Washington. While our primary emphasis of interpretation and research has focused on young George and his family’s life on this farm, Ferry Farm has many other stories to tell. The American Civil War had a major impact on the Ferry Farm community, changing both the landscape and the lives of those who lived here. This blog will look at how our archaeological efforts have brought to light artifacts that reflect the experiences of the soldiers that were stationed on the “old Washington Farm.”
Washington House at Ferry Farm“The Old Mansion of the Washington Family” (1833) by John Gadsby Chapman shows the foundation stones of the house where George grew up at Ferry Farm and trees along the riverbank.
The Washington house and its outbuildings gradually fell into disrepair until by the mid-1830s there was no trace of them on the landscape. But the soldiers still knew the significance of the site. In April 1862, the Civil War came full force to Fredericksburg and to Ferry Farm. Federal Forces took over and occupied the City of Fredericksburg behind the retreating Confederate Army. Encampments and gun emplacements were established all along our side of the river and throughout Stafford County as the army set about maintaining control of the city across the river. Engineers were set to the task of rebuilding the railroad bridge and erecting pontoon bridges, including one at the end of Ferry Road.
Looking over Fredericksburg by Alfred R. Waud
This spring deployment and the military occupation of Ferry Farm was relatively quiet and uneventful. There is no evidence of a large, formal camp at Ferry Farm, but soldiers were stationed here to protect one of the pontoon bridges that ran from the bottom land of Ferry Farm across to the city of Fredericksburg. In August of 1862, the army suddenly retreated from the city and the surrounding countryside to defend Washington, D.C.
In November of the same year, the full force of the Union Army returned to Stafford County in preparation for the retaking of Fredericksburg and their expected march to take over Richmond. Instead, the Federals suffered a devastating defeat at the Battle of Fredericksburg in December and retreated to the north side of the river for winter camp. Now, Ferry Farm was being used more actively as a staging ground for multiple troop movements, bivouacs for soldiers guarding the pontoon bridges, and as a defensive line for the Federal troops.
A defensive trench, or rifle pit, with an adjoining berm to protect soldiers from gunfire originating on the Fredericksburg side of the river, was dug across the edge of the upper river terrace, stretching north-south from the edge of the stream gully through the remains of the Washington house. A small extension on the south end of the trench was dug out to connect it to the now-exposed cellar.
Artifacts found within the cellar trench fill reflect the extensive use of the house ruins by soldiers during both occupations. In the spring and summer, they used the farmhouse as their headquarters, writing on the plaster walls and leaving graffiti in pencil and charcoal on hundreds of plaster fragments that have been excavated and preserved.
Plaster fragments with graffiti
Various artifacts were abandoned when they left, including canteens, bullets, gun parts, and writing tools. But this blog isn’t about buttons, bullets, and buckles. It’s about the items the soldiers found more dear. Objects they made or relied on for small comforts.
So, on a more personal level, what was everyday life like for the Union soldiers stationed here during the Civil War? When they weren’t directly experiencing the brutal and intense combat fighting on the front, it was a routine-filled life of constant drilling, standing watches, maintaining equipment, and finding imaginative ways to entertain themselves in the camps. But camp life had its own struggles and hardships. Poor shelter, food, and hygiene, along with low immunity rates to communicable diseases, all contributed to high rates of sickness and disease. Add to that boredom and homesickness, and camp life was a private’s first test of survival.
It was very important for the soldiers to recognize that they were standing on the very ground that their hero, George Washington, once stood on. Those sentiments were expressed in a speech by Private Edwin Jones of the 6th Wisconsin when he said, “We are assembled on sacred soil…It was while living on this plantation, under the direction and blessed with the teaching of a noble mother, that George Washington learned those lessons…fitting him for leadership in war and peace, to lay the foundation of the mighty Nation that we today are fighting to preserve.”
On a more personal note, we know soldiers spent a lot of idle time playing games among themselves. Dice, card games, chess, checkers, and gambling were all very popular, and remnants of these activities are found on all Civil War sites. At Ferry Farm, we have a collection of gaming pieces, including this bone die and a gaming piece crafted from a Minié ball, which could have been used to play chess, checkers, or as markers in a game of chance.
Bone die, one of the many gaming pieces uncoveredGaming pieces crafted from a Minié ball
And we can’t forget about the importance of music in camp life. Music was a common and welcome pastime activity for troops. Fiddles, guitars, fifes, harmonicas, and accordions all came out at night to entertain the soldiers who relished listening to songs about home and the worries of war. Jaw harps were inexpensive and easily portable, which made them very popular with soldiers. Our jaw harps, one of which was recovered from the civil war trench, is of the style known as a Gloucester type, one of the most common designs in America during Colonial times and after the Revolution.
“Gloucester type” jaw harp
Nothing is normal about wartime. Many people were forced to improvise, and it’s very hard to determine why a soldier placed four unfired Minié balls in this tin can, which was revealed through X-ray. Did he lose his ammo case? Was it just idle behavior? Were these bullets saved to be turned into gaming pieces? This is the type of artifact that raises more questions than answers.
A tin can filled with four unfired Minié balls, X-Ray of tin can with four unfired Minié balls
Literacy – Ink Bottle/Pen nib:
Literacy among Civil War soldiers was very high, and much of what we know about daily camp life comes from the letters written and received by the soldiers themselves. Letter-writing to loved ones at home allowed the soldier to keep up with local news, forward monetary and business instructions to those left running the household or farm, and relay war news to their family.
A complete ink bottle and pen nib recovered from the site evidences the desire for correspondence, both official and personal. The ink bottle itself was found in the Bray cellar hole, which the Union soldiers used as a defensive dugout to avoid Confederate sharp shooters. We can just picture a group of soldiers huddled down inside the cellar, building a small campfire to stay warm, and writing letters home to their families. Was it a hasty departure that left this bottle in the cellar, or perhaps the owner expected to return but didn’t. As archaeologists, we can’t answer all these questions, but we know it was used during the Civil War by a Union soldier and was found in a location many soldiers never wanted to be stuck in.
This particular ink bottle is an ‘umbrella’ shape, one of the most ubiquitous ink bottle forms from this era. The bottle was typically meant for single use and would have been made in one of the numerous American glasshouses present during the 19th century. It was then filled with ink, affixed with a label, and marketed for single use.
“umbrella” shaped ink bottle and small pen nib
This small pen nib is stamped with a maker’s mark and style name. The Esterbrook Company started making nibs, including the “Relief” style, in 1858 in Camden, New Jersey, and became one of the largest manufacturers of this product in the US. The nib was part of a dip pen, which consisted of a handle made of various materials and the replaceable nib.
The first evidence of self-care in the trenches takes the form of a small double-sided bone comb. Combs were made from an assortment of materials, including bone, ivory, gutta perch, and steel, and were used for grooming the moustache and hair. But their fine teeth were also handy in capturing the pesky lice that were endemic to camp life among men marching and living together in close quarters. This comb would have been an essential component of any soldier’s personal kit.
small double-sided bone comb
Our second evidence of self-care is this intriguing bottle. It is not so much interesting because of what it is – it’s a very common medicine style bottle for the mid-19th century– but rather what’s inside. Clearly visible within the bottle is a hard black substance, and for years, we’ve wondered what the substance may be.
Mercury bottle, mercury was used for a variety of medicinal reasons at the time
So we chipped off a little fragment of the substance and sent it to Ruth Ann Armitage, our chemist friend at Eastern Michigan University. The sample was analyzed using scanning electron microscopy to map out specifically what elements were present in the sample. Our sample was also run through DART (direct in real time) mass spectrometry. This technique is good at detecting organic components within a substance.
Almost immediately, Dr Armitage responded, and we weren’t disappointed: “Did you know there’s mercury in this?” Nope, we did not.
However, this discovery was not too surprising given the use of mercury in many medicines for thousands of years. Nowadays, it’s common knowledge that you shouldn’t drink mercury…or touch it…or inhale it, but for a long time, mercury was seen as a potent healing metal, and it was readily rubbed on skin, consumed, and vaporized for immediate effect on the lungs.
And while all these treatments using mercury did little to address the body’s underlying medical problem, mercury did cause an immediate bodily response, which convinced people it was working to cure their ailments. When applied topically, it burned. When introduced into the body, it caused a person to sweat, salivate, and have diarrhea. The mucous membranes also went into overdrive, leading many to believe that the bad stuff in your system making you sick was being purged by the mercury. The reality, of course, was that the body was trying desperately to rid itself of poison.
So, if the residue inside our bottle was medicine, what was its exact formula? All we can say at this point is that it was mercury-based and that it could have been in either liquid or pill form. Common Civil War-era uses for mercury-based medicines were for treating skin sores and lacerations, internal and external parasite infections, syphilis, and constipation, to name but a few. On a side note, an almost identical bottle also containing mercury was found across the river in Fredericksburg at a site that was well known to be a Union field hospital. It was found in a knapsack discarded in a trench that included amputated limbs.
Lastly, we’d like to highlight one of our favorite artifacts, a tiny hatchet about two and a half inches long, recovered from the bottom of the Civil War trench. For such a diminutive object, it speaks quite loudly to our local history in Fredericksburg, Virginia. Initially, earlier archaeologists at Ferry Farm assumed it was a pewter toy souvenir given out or sold in 1932, when our country and Fredericksburg celebrated the 200th anniversary of George’s birth. Indeed, cheap pewter toys were very popular during this time period.
Lead toy hatchet found in Civil War-era trench with traces of tin and nickel. Lead toy hatchet found in Civil War-era trench with traces of tin and nickel.
A recent reexamination of all the artifacts from the context where the hatchet was found revealed that nothing from that stratum had any 20th-century artifacts in it, nor did the two strata above it. In fact, the youngest artifacts from these strata were all mid-19th century. Additionally, although the archaeologists who excavated the hatchet didn’t know it at the time, the excavation unit from which the hatchet came sat right inside the Civil War-era trench.
This revelation shut the door on our ‘it’s a 20th-century souvenir’ narrative but opened the door to an even cooler one. A close examination of the hatchet showed that it didn’t have mold seams, which are always present on cast pewter toys. Furthermore, for some reason, it had one smooth side and one textured side, leading us to believe that it was handmade, not machine-cast. This was supported by a thorough internet search to find an identical toy hatchet, which came up empty, further supporting our new theory that this piece was a one of a kind. The textured side resembled the grain of wood, so we surmised it had been cast in a simple hand-carved wooden mold. All of these clues, combined with its location within a Civil War trench, made us suspect that the hatchet was crafted by a soldier, likely from a lead Minié ball. The hatchet is likely ‘trench art’, which is defined as objects of art either made by soldiers, POWs, or by civilians to create mementos of the war experience.
To further support our identification of the hatchet as trench art, we took the artifact to the Virginia Department of Historic Resources, where Katherine Ridgeway analyzed it using XRF, or X-ray fluorescence analysis. This non-destructive technique determines the composition of metal. We also brought along a few Minié balls recovered from the same unit for comparison. It turned out that what we thought was a pewter hatchet was actually a lead hatchet with a similar compositional profile to Minié balls, which are mostly lead with trace amounts of other metals such as tin and nickel.
One can just imagine a bored Union soldier whittling the mold and then melting down some of his bullets to pour into it. He likely chose the hatchet form because of the famous cherry tree story, in which young George Washington owned up to hacking his father’s cherry tree with a hatchet by proclaiming, ‘I cannot tell a lie.’ The soldier would have been well-versed in the Washington cherry tree myth at Ferry Farm, created by Mason Locke Weems in his first biography of Washington, published in 1800. By the 1860s, the story was nationally known. Additionally, letters Union soldiers wrote while encamped at Ferry Farm indicate they knew the site’s connection to Washington. They even went so far as to send home cherry seeds for their families.
Grant Wood — Parson Weems’ Fable (1939)
While the identification of the hatchet is now secured, we have so many more questions. Who was this soldier? How many hatchets did he make, and why did this one come to be left behind in his trench? Was it a souvenir for himself, or did he send one home to his family, or share with fellow soldiers? Did he survive the war? Unfortunately, these are mysteries that will likely never be solved, but that make for great pondering.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year! There’ll be dirt out for screening, ceramics for cleaning, and lots of good cheer…. Okay, sorry, that might be a little too far. But it is a super exciting part of the year here at Ferry Farm, George Washington’s Boyhood Home. We have officially started this summer’s dig season!
Building off of the previous two years’ exploration of the kitchen site, we are revisiting the 18th-century kitchen cellar again this year. While last year’s dig focused on locating and exposing the kitchen’s stone wall foundations, our focus this year will be excavating the fill within the cellar walls that had been deposited as a result of a fire sometime in the 1740s. The fire caused the building to collapse in on itself, filling the cellar space with ash and debris.
Excavating sites like this are very exciting because they represent preserved moments in time, leaving the possibility to find artifacts left in situ or in place, when the fire occurred. It is likely that most of the artifacts excavated will have evidence of the extreme heat caused by the fire. Toasty artifacts from the 2023 preliminary kitchen exploration have been washed and catalogued, showing damage to artifacts, such as glass bottles and ceramic storage vessels, ranging from being slightly charred and burnt to being completely melted. Toasty or not, these artifacts will help us nail down the date of the fire and what was being stored in the kitchen cellar when it went up in flames.
18thc kitchen cellar fill area within stone foundation to be excavated this seasonPortion of burnt cellar fill uncovered during the 2023 excavation season.
Our 18th-century kitchen, unfortunately, lies beneath the foundations of two farmhouses with full cellars dating from the 19th and 20th centuries. The construction of these homes severely impacted the kitchen structure and its burnt cellar fill, making it difficult for our archaeologists to accurately interpret the kitchen’s architectural features. A small portion of the kitchen cellar fill was also the subject of previous archaeological excavations in the 1990s, so we are not the first team to sample the fill. But in the interest of site preservation, the kitchen remnants were covered over twenty-five years ago with protective geofabric, and the farmhouse cellars backfilled completely with sand.
Luckily, we had the help of an excavator at the beginning of this season to remove the five feet of protective sand covering the kitchen cellar fill so we could get to the fun stuff sooner! But our fun isn’t restricted to the cellar, as we still have multiple 5” x 5” units around the outside of the kitchen foundations to investigate. Our team is still trying to locate the midden (trash deposits) and fireplace associated with the kitchen, as well as additional architectural evidence that would give an idea of the overall form and dimensions of the complete kitchen structure.
Excavator carefully removing the sand covering the cellar fill under the watchful eye of GWF archaeologists. The concrete wall foundations seen in the photo are the remnants of the 1914 farmhouse built atop the kitchen foundation. Exposing the cellar fill
Every excavation year brings new and exciting finds as we sift through thousands of years of site habitation. Come visit us while we dig weekdays from opening until 3:30 pm through July 11th. Hope to see you there!
On July 22, 1942, Annie Fleming Smith wrote a letter. Smith was a prolific letter writer—her innumerable missives had helped raise the funds that saved Kenmore two decades earlier—so it is not surprising that she put pen to paper on that summer day. What is surprising is that the intended recipient of that letter was not a prospective donor, a fellow regent of the Kenmore Association, or a friend. Instead, she addressed her epistle to Frank Knox, the Secretary of the Navy. Smith wanted “confirmation of the fact of the naming of the U.S.S. KENMORE” after the home and “any other information you can release” about the ship.[1]
Letter that Annie Fleming Smith sent to Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox asking for confirmation that the first USS Kenmore had been named after the historic home. Smith, Annie Fleming to Frank Knox, July 22, 1942. The George Washington Foundation.
Although there is no record that Knox responded to Smith (there was, after all, a war on), the USS Kenmore was, in fact, named for the historic estate. The Naval History and Heritage Command ship-naming file on Kenmore I (AP-62) includes an April 13, 1942, memo to the Secretary of the Navy from the chief of the Bureau of Navigation and prepared by Louis Emil Denfeld, then assistant chief of the Bureau of Navigation, recommending that the President Madison be renamed Kenmore, in honor of the “[h]ome of Betty Washington at Fredericksburg, Virginia, sister of George Washington who married Col Fielding Lewis.”[2] The recommendation was approved on April 16 of that year, and the newly renamed vessel was “commissioned at Baltimore, Md., on 5 August 1942, Cmdr. Myron T. Richardson in command.”[3]
USS Kenmore (AP-62) on trials in the Chesapeake Bay on August 14, 1942. Shipscribe
Smith had learned of the ship during a mid-1942 visit to the estate from Lt. Commander William VanC. Brandt (USNR) of the Kenmore, who later wrote to “Miss Annie” to thank her for her hospitality.[4] “All the Officers of the Kenmore,” Brandt told Smith, “were most interested in learning the history and record of the beautiful estate for which our ship is named.”[5] Brandt planned to have framed and displayed in the ship’s wardroom photographs of the property given to him by Smith; later, the vessel’s captain requested a picture of the house for his room.[6] For her part, Smith was “thrilled” to meet Brandt and “to know about your ship,” although she was skeptical enough of the origin of the transport’s new name to write Knox.[7]
The Arlington National Cemetery headstone of William VanC. Brandt, from whom Annie Fleming Smith learned that a Navy ship had been named after the historic home she had helped save from development in the 1920s.
The Kenmore operated primarily in the Pacific until September 1943; she was then converted into a hospital ship and renamed Refuge.[8] The Navy must have liked the name Kenmore, as it was bestowed in October 1943 on another transport, originally called the James H. McClintock.[9]The Kenmore II also served in the Pacific Theater and, after “hostilities ended on 15 August 1945, [began] returning veterans to the U.S.”[10] She was decommissioned on February 1, 1946.[11]
USS Refuge (AH-11), formerly the Kenmore (AP-62), photographed in February 1944 in Baltimore after her conversion from transport to hospital ship. Shipscribe.The second USS Kenmore (AK-221, ex AP-162) in San Francisco Bay around December 1945. Shipscribe.
The Kenmores were not the only vessels named for properties associated with George Washington and his family. The Wakefield (AP-21) borrowed its name from the Westmoreland County birthplace of the first president, today owned by the National Park Service.[12] There have been five Mount Vernons; the first was built in 1859 and chartered by the Navy two years later, before they bought it later that year.[13] The most recent vessel named after Washington’s residence and plantation was a dock landing ship commissioned in 1972 and decommissioned in 2003.[14] The possible birthplace of Mary Ball, George Washington’s mother, lent its name to the Epping Forest, a dock landing ship launched in 1943.[15]
The monikers of other ships are connected more tenuously to places tied to George Washington and his family. For example, a 1943 submarine chaser was rechristened the Abingdon in 1956.[16] The vessel’s new name came from the town of Abingdon, in Washington County, Virginia (named, yes, for George Washington).[17] According to the county’s official history, “myths claim that [the town] was named for Martha Washington’s ancestral home” in England.[18] While this may be a false etymology, were those who named the ship drawing on the tale when they chose to call the vessel Abingdon? Additionally, the many Arlingtons that have served the Navy over the years have each been named after Arlington County, which draws its appellation from Arlington House, built for George Washington Parke Custis, the step-grandson of his celebrated namesake.[19]
Arlington Mansion was built by George Washington Parke Custis. Union soldiers posing on the lawn, June 28, 1864.
The Navy’s infatuation with the commander in chief of the Continental Army has, of course, also been expressed by naming ships directly after Washington and his family, not just their properties. While a complete inventory of such vessels is beyond the scope of this post, it is worth noting that four ships have been named the George Washington, including CVN-73, an active nuclear-powered aircraft carrier, while several others have sailed under just his surname.[20] Martha, George’s wife and the nation’s first first lady, has inspired the names of at least two Navy ships: the Lady Washington and the Martha Washington.[21] Civilian shipbuilders have also found inspiration in the Washington family: the SS Mary Ball was a liberty ship active during World War II.[22]
U.S.S. George Washington in Yokosuka, Japan in 2008. Four boats shared the name “Lady Washington.” The first was commissioned by the Continental Congress in 1776.USS Martha Washington inbound to Hampton Roads, Virginia, from Brest, France, 1918.
Who was responsible for naming these ships? As hinted at above, while final authority for ship names was (and still is) the responsibility of the Secretary of the Navy, during World War II, it was the Bureau of Navigation (renamed the Bureau of Personnel on May 21, 1942) that researched and recommend ship names based on the traditional naming conventions associated with each class of vessels.[23]
Typically, it was dock landing ships, or LSDs, that were named for “cities and places of historical interest of same name, or places of historical interest only.” [24]Epping Forest, Gunston Hall I (named for George Mason’s home), Ashland (for the boyhood home of Henry Clay), Carter Hall (after the Virginia estate), Oak Hill (for the home of President James Monroe), and Shadwell (for the birthplace of Thomas Jefferson) are all examples of LSDs whose names aligned with this convention.[25]
But the Kenmores, the Mount Vernon IV, and the Wakefield were not LSDs; they were transports, classified AP, and anyone seeking consistency in the Navy’s naming of troop transports during World War II is bound to be disappointed. Some vessels in the AP class were named after celestial bodies, others after Revolutionary War heroes, and others, as we have seen, after historic estates.
Dang it, Ben, you had one rule.One of the original six frigates whose construction was authorized by the Naval Act of 1794.
This lack of consistency is not surprising. After all, when Benjamin Stoddert named the Navy’s sixth ship, a frigate, he chose to call it the Chesapeake, despite President George Washington’s agreement with the recommendation that frigates be named after “principles or symbols found in the US Constitution.” Therefore, “the very first naming decision by the very first Secretary of the Navy resulted in the ‘corruption’ of the established naming convention.”[26] This tradition of flexibility regarding ship names has endured, and ship names continue to excite interest (and occasionally strong feelings) from many parties, including those who propose denominations for new vessels. If you are such a person, here’s an idea: how about another Kenmore, or maybe a Ferry Farm?
Adam Nubbe
Manager of School & Youth Programs
[1] Smith, Annie Fleming to Frank Knox, July 22, 1942. The George Washington Foundation.
[2] Naval History and Heritage Command, Kenmore I, ship-naming file, April 13, 1942.
Linum (“Flax”) and oleum (“oil”) – Fashionable and Affordable
As a Historic Preservation student at the University of Mary Washington, I’ve grown to appreciate almost all aspects of materiality. Over the past four years, my education has taught me to look closely at the built environment around me.
Two years ago, I stumbled across a book about mid-century kitchens, which discussed modern flooring’s ugly duckling: linoleum. From this, I developed an appreciation for linoleum and vinyl flooring and an equal obsession with spotting them.
Most people wouldn’t put Linoleum at the top of their list of favored materials. After all, historically, it’s been labeled as cheap, tacky, and ugly. However, linoleum has been an important part of modern living since the late 19th century. While the patterns most people initially thought of weren’t very attractive (that one red brick style), their initial creation changed the game for durable materials in a household and single-handedly became a hospital favorite.
Linoleum was first invented by Frederick Walton in Chiswick, England, when he discovered that oxidized linseed oil could replace rubber when mixing the oil with cork and other fibers. This process was sped up by heating the oil with lead and zinc, which formed a sticky paste that would be mixed with sawdust or cork to keep the cloth from becoming tacky. Shortly after receiving a patent in 1864, Walton opened the American Linoleum Manufacturing Company on Staten Island, New York, in 1872, with the nearby town named Linoliumville in its honor.
Fred Walton, creator of Linoleum
The genius of linoleum was/is its durability and ability to be mass-produced cheaply. Additionally, the material could be customized using pigments to create virtually any pattern, which aided in its early popularity in homes. Early linoleum was commonly produced in printed, marbled, inlaid, or plain patterns, with these distinct designs often serving as time machines to gauge when the flooring was installed. Putting aside the aesthetics, linoleum is most likely to be seen in high-traffic areas, such as hallways, kitchens, and mudrooms, due to its long-term durability.
A well-installed linoleum is waterproof and surprisingly antibacterial, which is why, since its invention, linoleum has been commonly used in hospitals. The flooring was also popular among naval vessels in the early twentieth century, with battleships and luxury cruisers taking advantage of the material. In fact, the RMS Titanic used inlaid linoleum flooring for a significant portion of its decks, which can be seen in past photos and even on the sea floor today.
First Class Smoking Lounge on R.M.S. Titanic with lovely blue and red tiles, ca. 19122004 image of wreckage from the Titanic, showing linoleum floor tiles taken by the Institute for Exploration and Center for Archaeological Oceanography/University of Rhode Island/NOAA Office of Ocean Exploration
The manufacturing boom of the mid-twentieth century brought modern materials and technologies to the average household, including the popularization of linoleum in common spaces. Kitchens and high-traffic areas would continue to have the flooring material. However, living rooms, eating spaces, and even walls would start to display colorful and flashy patterns. This popularity would be short-lived, as the 1950s brought vinyl flooring, an extremely similar product, but was pushed as a newer and more “fashionable” alternative to linoleum.
An image of a bedroom from a 1952 advertisement for linoleum flooring
Despite the initial falloff, linoleum has made a surprising comeback in homes within the last few years. It’s understandable, as per square foot, the material is very affordable and easy to clean, not to mention that rising interest in the conservation of historic homes has led to the preservation and replication of historic linoleum. Most often, the damage to the material features is rips and cracks, which are easily repaired with patching and a fresh coat of sealant.
I don’t write any of this intending that you agree with me. However, I believe that linoleum reflects the best of modern materiality. It’s low-cost, eco-friendly, durable, and easy to customize, allowing lower-income homes to decorate their spaces economically and colorfully. While spotting linoleum in older buildings may be rare due to being covered with changing fashion trends (we are all familiar with carpet over beautiful hardwood floors), preserving it is just as important as any other part of the built environment.
Helena Samson
Fleming Smith Scholar, UMW Class of 2025
Linoleum’s Forebearer “Fancy Pattern-Cloth” – Eighteenth Century Floorcloths
The future of home restoration and preservation will involve saving certain building materials, such as wood, stone, brick, and decorative elements, like linoleum. While humble and even ridiculed (you know the pattern), linoleum will eventually be treasured as a lasting historical remnant, helping future preservationists add context and depth to restorations.
Classic linoleum, everyone seemed to have despite not wanting to admit it.
Unfortunately, in eighteenth-century historical preservation, we are rarely lucky enough to find samples of the predecessor of linoleum, the floorcloth. The floorcloth was a relatively common floor covering in eighteenth-century Virginia homes. It was made from woven cloth, usually heavy and sturdy, like linen or cotton canvas. This canvas was then stretched, several layers of oil paint applied, and covered in varnish. This floorcloth could be painted in any fashionable design, as seen in John Carwitham’s book published in 1739, with the replica marble being one of the favorites.
Behold my fancy flooring, m’lady – design plate from John Carwitham’s “Various kinds of floor decorations”, 1739Marble floorcloth in entryway at Kenmore. The floorcloth was made in 1980 and has been stripped and repainted once…it is holding up nicely.
Like linoleum, floorcloth was prized because it was customizable, durable, easily cleaned, and repairable. It could also be cut down and used in other areas like kitchens or closets after it lost its fashionability or was replaced with carpet. It was so versatile that it basically reused itself out of existence.
While no known complete examples of eighteenth-century floorcloths exist, bits and pieces have been found, offering insight into their construction and functionality in the home. Coincidentally, here at Kenmore, we found remnants of a floorcloth under the floorboards in the attic during a period of restoration in 1989. Small samples from the remnants were taken for analysis:
Floorcloth remnant found in Kenmore’s atticFloorcloth remnant found in Kenmore’s attic
Base layer – yellow preparatory layers of lead white and yellow ochre ground in linseed oil. The uneven distribution of the large, clumped pigments suggests it was hand-ground paint.
Black paint is found in the third layer above the ground coatings with remnants of plant resin varnish, followed by a green design layer. This could mean the black paint was the original design, and it was repainted after varnish and the green design were put on top.
Green-painted areas – made up of white lead, Prussian blue, yellow ochre, and calcium carbonate.
White paint – composed primarily of white lead and calcium carbonate
We can draw a few conclusions from this paint analysis. One, the floorcloth was well used but eventually worked its way down the list of favored household furnishings, whether from wear and tear or fashionability. Either way, it was ultimately rolled up and stored out of sight, and lucky for us, forgotten.
Second, the white paint sample did not contain zinc white, which was used after 1840, and the green paint sample did not contain chrome green, which means it was likely produced before 1816, when chrome yellow pigments were commercially available. So, while we can’t verify that it was a Lewis family floorcloth, it is a very early example of the floor covering. It inspired the floorcloth reproduced for Fielding’s office in Kenmore, which you can read about in our previous post, “What Was Old Is New Again”.
Beautiful reproduction floorcloth hand-painted by Black Dog Gallery, Yorktown.
Today, thanks to linoleum, we can choose affordable, durable, and even fashionable flooring materials. Linoleum is the evolution of floorcloths with similar goals and functionality. However, while floorcloths didn’t usually survive, linoleum will follow us through history and deserves to be preserved even if it leads to awkward questions about style and décor.
Oh, there will be questions.
Heather Baldus
Collections Manager
Bibliography
Kaldewei, G. (2000). Linoleum: History, design, Architecture, 1882-2000. Hatje Cantz ; Distribution in the US, DAP, Distributed Art Publishers.
Landreau, A.N. (1976). America underfoot: A history of floor coverings from colonial times to the present. Published for the Smithsonian Institution Traveling Exhibition Service by the Smithsonian Institution Press.
Weissman, J.R., & Lavitt, W. (1994). Labors of love: America’s textiles and Needlework, 1650-1930. Wings Book: Distributed by Outlet Book Co.
Buck, Susan L. Floorcloth Fragments Cross-Section Microscopy Report, Kenmore, Fredericksburg, Virginia. (2006)
Lives & Legacies 