With building work on the reconstructed Washington family home at George Washington’s Ferry Farm nearly finished, our archaeologists are in the midst of identifying Washington-owned plates, bowls, glasses, and other household artifacts to be used to furnish the house once construction is finally complete.
While working to identify things, archaeologists sometimes encounter a “mystery artifact” that either can’t be identified or has been altered to serve an unknown purpose from what was originally intended. We wrote about one especially perplexing mystery artifact almost three years ago. With that mystery artifact, someone intentionally and for unknown reasons chipped away the edges of that 18th century leaded glass base from a cup or mug to form a disc .
Recently, during analysis of the Washington family’s table glass, Ferry Farm archaeologists discovered another base from an 18th century drinking glass that someone tried to modify by actually breaking or knapping off flakes of glass. It was an apparent attempt to turn the base into a disc. As before, we don’t know for what reason.
To confirm the glass was knapped, Ferry Farm archaeologists got “science-y” and asked nearby Dovetail Cultural Resource Group in Fredericksburg to take photographs of the glass base using a microscope camera.
Using this microscope camera made the clear glass appear green in the resulting photos. More importantly, the photos helped us to see flake scars from knapping, which we’ve outlined in black in the photo below, and thus confirm that the glass was actually knapped by someone.
As often happens when studying the past, however, our analysis provided answers but also created many more questions. Who did the knapping? Was it perhaps the job of an enslaved worker? What was the goal? Why make these modifications? Although it’s the science of history, even archaeology can’t yet provide answers to these questions. In fact, we many never have the answers. In the end, sometimes not knowing is just as much a part of archaeology as knowing.
A sample of the 30 historical thimbles found to date by archaeologists at George Washington’s Ferry Farm.
Thimbles were once a popular token of affection given to ladies by family members, close acquaintances, or sanguine suitors. These essential tools formed an ideal gift for a beloved family member or an appropriate token of affection during those early, initial stages of a budding romance. They were considered a less intimate gift than perfume or jewelry – all of which had more serious, romantic connotations. Gifting thimbles to cherished daughters or sweethearts developed as an esteemed tradition by the 1500s in Europe.
Thimbles served as an emblem of female domesticity and skill. Thimbles possessing a domed end were employed to protect the tip of the finger as a seamstress pushed a needle through cloth. Such thimbles typified domestic use, where tasks were dominated by sewing and mending. These duties were associated with a well-run home, and these skills grew to define womanhood.
Thimbles came in a variety of graduated sizes to accommodate the young as well as the experienced. Accomplished girls were expected to produce elaborate samplers and embroidery by the age of seven. The products of these young artisans were ostentatiously displayed throughout the house, where prospective suitors and visiting families could appreciate the budding skills and diligence of their daughters. Thimbles were such essential tools in the daily lives of women that they were part of everyday dress, often worn on the body as part of a chatelaine or belt-hung tool kit that included scissors, needles, and a thimble (think of Downton Abbey’s Mrs. Hughes).
A variety of sizes accommodated a child’s growth to adulthood. These examples were uncovered by archaeologists at Ferry Farm.
Commercially-used thimbles were typically open ended and known as thimble rings. They proved to be popular amongst tailors who used these special thimbles “sideways” to protect the side of the finger. An open ended, ‘thimble ring’ provided a better option for use with thicker materials, such as leather. Such sturdy fabrics were associated with upholstery manufacture. Products that employed leather, such as saddles and tack, also required thimble rings. Tailors were often male, and many assert that thimble rings were used by men exclusively. Like all assumptions, they should be made with care: no doubt women who worked in industries associated with thicker materials employed thimble rings, and men who needed to mend their clothes in the absence of female family members made ready use of thimbles (soldiers in camp, for instance).
Archaeologists have recovered over thirty functional (not souvenir) thimbles from the soils surrounding the Washington home. The majority date from the 18th and 19th centuries and – given their context – likely represent those used by women and girls for sewing hems, mending tears, and stitching. These historical examples from Ferry Farm were typically made from brass, reflecting both the popularity of that metal for manufacture, but also its durability and stability over time. A few examples feature copper sides with steel tips. Iron thimbles were also popular, but they decompose quickly and are rarely encountered by excavators.
Sometimes, when given as gifts, thimbles were enhanced with mottos, a tradition that was especially popular during the 1800s. They might be friendly, such as “Live Happy,” or didactic: “Pray and Work.” Slogans included “Remember Me,” “I Live to Die,” “A Friend’s Gift,” “Amor,” and “Pray and Prosper,” to mention a few. Two thimbles embossed with the sentimental idiom “Forget Me Not” were unearthed at Ferry Farm, each recovered from layers dating from the antebellum era (the time before the American Civil War). During this time, the ownership of the Ferry Farm lands was dynamic, and the property changed hands frequently.
Chatham resident, and Commonwealth of Virginia Supreme Court of Appeals Judge, John Coalter purchased the property in 1829. However he never resided at Ferry Farm. Less than a decade later, in 1838, John Teasdale and Joseph Mann attained the property. Just five years after that, the land was transferred to Lewis G. Sutton. By mid-century, in 1846, John R. Bryan owned the farm and in December of that same year Winter Bray purchased Ferry Farm.
“Fredericksburg, Virginia — [From a Drawing by Mr. A.R. Waud]” in the December 20, 1862 edition of “Harper’s Weekly.” This image was drawn on the Ferry Farm side of the Rappahannock looking across the river into Fredericksburg. Buildings of the Bray farmstead can be seen along the river bank in the image’s left middleground. Public domain.Bray engaged an overseer at Ferry Farm to manage the property. Importantly, they constructed a dwelling on the property in 1851, where the overseer resided. The George Washington Foundation’s archaeologists unearthed this structure as well as a kitchen related to this occupation in 2004. The construction of these dwellings is significant, since it demonstrates that people were residing on the land. Thimbles are more likely to derive from such a residential occupation as opposed to an absentee owner who devoted the land to pure farming.
We know from their method of manufacture that the “Forget Me Not” thimbles date from the 1800s. Given the dynamic history of property ownership and occupation that characterizes Ferry Farm at this time, it might at first seem challenging to determine which land owner – or rather which land owner’s family of resident workers – purchased these touching thimbles. However one thimble was found in the center of one of the Bray era dwellings, from a stratum dating from sometime between 1800 and 1860. The other thimble was discovered in the yard east of the Bray era structures, recovered from a layer that also dated from the antebellum era. It’s possible that both of these thimbles relate to the Bray era of ownership, and specifically to the overseers who occupied the property on the Bray family’s behalf.
Look closely and you can read the word “NOT” upon this unconserved “Forget Me Not” thimble found in 2014. It was found in the yard east of the Bray era structures in a layer dating from sometime between 1800-1860.It’s easier to see the letters “FORGE…” of the phrase “FORGET ME NOT” upon this conserved Ferry Farm thimble. It was found in 2004 in direct association with one of the Bray era dwellings.
Over the centuries, sentimental tokens similar to the thimbles excavated from the Bray dwelling cemented relationships, expressed affection, and inspired diligence among sisters, daughters, and sweethearts.
It’s flu season again. And for most of us who get sick that means a trip to the doctor, perhaps some prescribed medicines, and lots of rest. But what did George Washington do when he got sick? Although most of us likely think of our first president as perpetually healthy and strong, he was actually stricken by quite a few serious illnesses in his lifetime, many of which occurred while he was growing up at Ferry Farm.
Mary, George’s mother, had a few options when caring for her sick children but a hospital was not one. They did not exist yet. The most expensive solution was to call a doctor (Back then, they came to you. You do not go to them). Most people could not afford a doctor’s visit, however, and many distrusted doctors as being worse than the diseases they cured. This fear of doctors was somewhat justified given that George ultimately died of an illness he could well have survived had he not been bled to death by his doctors.
“An ill man who is being bled by his doctor. Coloured etching by J. Sneyd, 1804, after J. Gillray.” by James Gillray. Credit: Wellcome Collection. CC BY
Option number two was to visit a pharmacy. Now, we’re not talking Walgreens. Think smaller and jars full of leeches. Anyone could visit an 18th century pharmacy without any kind of prescription or referral. If you had the money, you could purchase whatever ‘cure’ you wanted. The pharmacist was not necessarily a medical professional and may or may not have been good at diagnosing whatever illness you had. That didn’t mean you couldn’t walk out of a pharmacy with any and all manner of odd concoctions that cured you or did not cure you. For instance, folks were awfully fond of self-treating with mercury tinctures until well into the 19th century, which we now know to be a colossally terrible idea.
‘Michel Schuppach in his pharmacy examining a young woman’s urine who is seated opposite him awaiting the result. Line engraving by B. Hübner, 1775, after G. Locher, 1774.’ by Gottfried Locher. Credit: Wellcome Collection. CC BY
Another popular option was to make your own medicines at home. Recipes for cures were passed down through word of mouth and many households had herb gardens containing medicinal plants, many brought with colonists from Europe. There were also a number of books available that divulged the secrets of pharmacopoeia. Many of the medicines described in these books sound like things a storybook witch might brew up. One such tome available to Mary Washington was Thomas Fuller’s Pharmacopeia Extemporanea, published in 1710. It contains remedies such as ‘Pectoral Snail Water’, said to be good for “Erratic scorbutic Fevers, Flushings, flying Pains of the Joynts, hectic wasting of Flesh, and Night-sweats”. The delicious-sounding ingredients were as follows:
“Snails beaten to mash with their Shells 3 pound
Crumb of white Bread new bak’d 12 ounces
Nutmeg 6 drams
Ground-Ivy 6 handfuls
Whey 3 quarts; distil it in a cold Still, without burning
One half pint brandy”
One can only assume that the last ingredient was to help the mashed snails go down.
We do have evidence showing the use of home medicines at Ferry Farm in the form of numerous ointment pots. At least half a dozen have been identified thus far. Ointment pots were used for holding various medical or cosmetic unguents likely made at home. Generally, such pots were fairly plain with a rolled or flared lip used to secure a textile, hide, or paper lid with a string.
Three white salt glazed stoneware ointment pots excavated from the Washington house cellar at Ferry Farm.
Judging by their lack of use wear, the pots recovered at Ferry Farm were used for storage, not for actually manufacturing medicines. The act of stirring or grinding substances in the pots would have resulted in microscopic striations or scratches in the glaze and these are absent in the Washington family ointment pots. However, they do indicate the storage of medicines at Ferry Farm. Given the nature of home remedies in the 1700s, one’s imagination can run wild thinking of all the interesting concoctions that they may have held!
Mara Kaktins, Archaeologist
Archaeology Lab Supervisor
Further Reading
Fuller, Thomas. Pharmacopoeia extemporanea : or, a body of prescripts. In which forms of select remedies, accommodated to most intentions of cure, are propos’d. London. 1710.
Hume, Ivor Noel. A Guide to the Artifacts of Colonial America. University of Pennsylvania Press, Philadelphia. 2001.
Hume, Ivor Noel. Early English Delftware from London and Virginia. Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, Virginia. 1977.
Mellor, Maureen. Pots and People that Have Shaped the Heritage of Medieval and Later England.Ashmolean Museum, Oxford. 2000.
Skerry, Janine E. and Suzanne Findlen Hood. Stalt-Glazed Stoneware in Early America. University Press of New England, Hanover and London. 2009
Ah, the humble wine bottle. There are few historical archaeological sites without them and Ferry Farm is no exception. Our current mending project has produced about a dozen wine bottles from one Washington house cellar feature alone. Readily identifiable because their form has changed little in the past 250 years, these beauties are sometimes overlooked in favor of fancier or more exotic artifacts. However, there is much we can learn from the sherds of wine bottles and much history wrapped up in their existence on colonial sites.
Mid-18th century bottle neck and base fragments excavated from the Washington house cellar at Ferry Farm.
Let’s start with what wine bottles cannot tell us. They can’t actually tell us whether or not folks were drinking wine. Huh? Well, ‘wine’ bottles of the colonial period held anything from vinegar to gin and all liquids in between. Yes, many contained wine but the modern use of ‘wine’ to describe these bottles, with their tall, cylindrical shape and dark green-colored glass, is really just a reflection of what we exclusively drink from them currently.
Most 18th and 19th century wine bottles held a variety of substances over their lifetimes. Bottles were not cheap before industrialization made them relatively disposable and were often listed in probate inventories. Recycling is nothing new. Your average 18th century household carefully cleaned out each empty bottle for reuse when needed. The inside was scoured with sand, small pebbles, or lead shot (which is a terrible idea). It is not uncommon to find wine bottles archaeologically that exhibit heavy use wear on the inside and outside from years of being drained, cleaned, refilled and used for storage, serving, and transport. Truly, the wine bottle was a workhorse.
An example of what the bottles excavated at Ferry Farm looked when they were whole.
Where did these ever-present bottles come from? For the most part, from England. This isn’t surprising given that colonials weren’t really allowed to trade with any other countries. While there were some early glass houses in the Americas, their production was nowhere near that of England’s well-established glass industry. The English produced squat and sturdy wine bottles of very dark glass often dubbed ‘black glass’ able to survive shipping across the Atlantic. They were filled before the trip and used as ballast in the ship, the contents often being worth more than the bottle itself.
For the most part, these ‘black glass’ wine bottles were filled with wine but not the wine that you’re likely familiar with. Your typical red or white wine would not survive the months-long tumultuous ocean journey (with its extremes of temperature and humidity) from Europe to America. It would be vinegar by the time it arrived, if you were lucky.
However, wine fortified with a hard liquor such as brandy would halt fermentation and oxidation processes and make the wine both transportable AND much higher octane once it arrived for thirsty colonials. Subsequently, a lot of the wine enjoyed in 18th century America was fortified. Not only did these fortified wines such as Madeira, port, sherry, Masala, or Malaga survive the nasty voyage across the ocean, they actually tasted better once they reached their destination. Fortified wines are total masochists and basically thrive under neglect and abuse. The more rocking of the boat the better. Fortified wines also love extremes of temperature and humidity. In fact, bottlers often documented the voyage a particular wine took. Madeira and Port that traveled south of the equator and then back north again fetched top dollar because they had been exposed to the extreme conditions of the tropics.
“An English Sloop Becalmed near the Shore” (mid-18th cent.) by Francis Swaine. Credit: Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection
But why import all this wine? Surely it would have been cheaper and easier to make it locally like most other colonial food and beverages. Well, the colonists tried….and tried…and tried. Even Thomas Jefferson, one of the great innovators of his day and a celebrated lover of wine, failed in this task, although not for lack of effort. It turns out that European grapes do not do well in the Americas and tend to wither from disease and pests. Additionally, North America’s few native grapes are ill-suited to making fine wine. It was not until recently in our history as a country that we’ve succeeded in growing hybrid grape varieties that will produce a palatable wine. We had a much better track record of making wine out of pretty much everything else (dandelions, apples, barley, peaches, quince, and any berry they could get their hands on). Seeing as it was unimaginable that our founding fathers go without one of their favorite beverages, both wine and wine bottles ended up making their way across the Atlantic in large quantities.
All of this brings us back to the Washington family wine bottles. Their presence is not a surprise but finding them has us pondering the importance of wine in the colonies, the intricacies of colonial transatlantic trade, and the value of seemingly everyday objects in colonial society. Of course it’s also fun to contemplate all of the libations they may have held over the years until a careless hand shattered them and banished the bottles to the trash midden where they would await discovery by archaeologists two and a half centuries later.
Mara Kaktins, Archaeologist
Ceramics & Glass Specialist
Grasse, Steven. Colonial Spirits: A Toast to Our Drunken History. Abrams Image, New York. 2016
Hancock, David. Oceans of Wine: Madeira and the Emergence of American Trade and Taste. Yale University Press, New Haven and London. 2009.
Jones, Olive R. Cylindrical English Wine & Beer Bottles 1735-1850. Minister of Supply and Services, Canada. 1986.
As work continues on the reconstructed Washington family home at Ferry Farm, we archaeologists are identifying items that were owned by the Washingtons so we can eventually fill the reconstructed house with plates, bowls, glasses, and many other objects based on artifacts we’ve discovered. In a previous blog post, we looked at some of the fancy colorless glass that adorned the Washington family’s dining table. While this clear glass definitely dominates our collection, we’ve also discovered quite a few vessels of colored glass including deep cobalt blue, amethyst, smoky quartz, and milky white.
Glass is made from silica sand, soda ash, and lime. Its color is dictated, in part, by impurities in the silica sand such as iron which causes the glass to turn the dark shades of green seen in early colonial wine bottles.
Early glassmakers found ways to reduce the amount of this iron and created colorless glass. Colorless glass was by far the most common used as tableware. Much of the clear glass on Mary Washington’s table was also made with a lead oxide additive, which achieved the desired “crystal clear” look and produced heavier and more refractive table glass.
Early glassmakers also found that when other types of metal oxides were added to the silica sand, soda ash, and lime, the result was different colors of glass. This colored glass could still be infused with some amount of lead oxide to give it clarity.
The glass belonging to the Washingtons discussed below was handmade in the 1700s, meaning it was mouth-blown by a skilled glass blower and, in some cases, hand decorated.
Cobalt Blue Goblet or Wine Glass Our first piece is a base sherd with partial stem. The beautiful sapphire color of this sturdy stemware was created using cobalt oxide as a coloring agent.
Cobalt Blue Goblet Base
Likely made in England, it has a rather hefty base compared to our other stemwares and belonged to a goblet or wine glass. Any number of beverages could have been held in this glass, although today we commonly associate goblets with water and wine glasses with, well, wine.
Cobalt Blue Goblet
Smoky Quartz Wine Rinser The wine rinser has passed out of use in modern society. It was used on the formal gentry table for washing wine glasses between uses or meal courses. When a new wine was brought to the table, the glasses would be placed in the rinser to flush the previous wine from the glass. The small spouts on either side are meant to support an upside-down wine glass by the stem in water.
Wine Glass Rinser with Wine Glass
Not only did tableware like this reflect wealth enough to afford multiple wines and meal courses, it was also a colorful piece that stood out among the colorless wine glasses on the table. The smoky-colored lip fragments and the thin, blue green fragments in our collection are believed to be from two different wine rinsers.
The smoky fragment is a rather unusual color but was created with similar metal oxides as the blue/green piece. Greys, greens, and colors-in-between are created using mixtures of iron, chromium, and copper. Adding cobalt to this mix created variations of blue/green.
Thin blue-green fragment of a wine rinser discovered at Ferry Farm.
Sherd of a Smoky Quartz Colored Wine Rinser excavated at Ferry Farm. A portion of the small spout is visible.
The amethyst rinser pictured below is from our own collection at Historic Kenmore. Amethyst glass was created using manganese and sometimes nickel.
Amethyst Wine Rinser from the Historic Kenmore collection.
Enameled Milk Glass Tumbler This tumbler or beaker fragment is made from opaque white or ‘milk’ glass and was produced by adding tin or zinc oxides, fluorides, and phosphates to the glass. Germany was known for its production of milk glass but it was produced in other parts of Europe as well. In general, tumblers were used for mixed alcoholic beverages and, like other table wares, reflected the status the owner wanted to present to visitors. Although it is difficult to see, this vessel was hand-painted or ‘enameled’. Centuries in the dirt were not kind to the decoration, however, and we are left only with a ghost of the original painting known as a ‘fugitive design’.
Milk glass with fugitive design recovered by Ferry Farm archaeologists.
At one time, this glass was vibrant and colorful and was likely gilded with gold leaf like the German example pictured below.
Amethyst Glass We only have a small fragment of deep purple amethyst glass, and cannot determine a vessel form without a bigger piece.
Small piece of amethyst glass recovered archaeologically at Ferry Farm.
Again, like with the other colored pieces of tableware, amethyst was for formal dining and a showpiece to visitors. The shape and faceting of this fragment may have resembled this circa 1800 amethyst goblet.One of the rarer table glass colors is Amethyst. As mentioned earlier, this color was created with the addition of manganese and sometimes nickel as a coloring agent.
EDITOR’S NOTE: Sixty years ago today, the Soviet Union launched Sputnik, Earth’s first artificial satellite, into orbit. It was an event with consequences, both great and small, that spanned the globe, even reaching Ferry Farm, once the boyhood home of George Washington, in Virginia. Today, we reshare this blog post about Ferry Farm’s Sputnik moment.
Sputniks and mutniks, flying through the air,
Sputniks and mutniks, flying everywhere,
It’s so ironic. Are they atomic?
Those funny missiles have got me scared. -Lyrics from “Sputniks and Mutniks” by Ray Anderson and the Home Folks (1958)
A replica of Sputnik at the National Air and Space Museum in Washington, DC. Credit: NASA/Wikipedia.
“Beep, Beep, Beep…” went the sinister telemetry signals from the Earth’s first artificial satellite. Launched by the Soviet Union on October 4, 1957 — 59 years ago today — those irritating beeps, which can be heard below, provided undeniable evidence of the successful launch. It occurred during the Cold War between the Communist East and the Capitalist West, and represented the dawn of the space age. Embedded within Sputnik were two radio transmitters that, using a single watt of power, broadcast a series of beeps received by radios and televisions all over the world. These beeping sounds frightened some, who mistrusted the technological breakthrough and its potential military applications.
Uncle Sam is “Awake at Last” from his bed of complacency while Sputnik can be seen through the window hurtling across the sky transmitting it’s urgent ‘beep.’ Cartoon by Edwin Marcus. Credit: Library of Congress
Sputnik roused considerable political anxiety on the part the United States, a country determined to perfect satellite technology and to engage in cosmic exploration. They underestimated the progress of the Soviet program. Today, in popular parlance, a “sputnik moment” refers to being spectacularly caught off guard by the unanticipated advancements of a rival. President Obama incorporated “Sputnik moment” in his 2011 State of the Union Address designed to encourage investment in research and technology.
At the height of the crisis in 1957, the Eisenhower administration referred to Sputnik as “…a silly bauble….” The satellite represented a rather modest accomplishment whose engineers prioritized being first in orbit over producing a sophisticated data-gathering tool. Recently, some scholars have suggested that the satellite was a bit of a ‘bluff’ to make the United States believe that the Soviet program was more sophisticated than it was. Like many martial ‘bluffs,’ the impact was far-reaching and it exacerbated and escalated an already frigid Cold War.
About the size of a beach ball, Sputnik orbited less than 600 miles above earth. Each orbit lasted 96 minutes. The National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) was created in 1958 as a response to this (perceived) technological “wake up” call. Nationally, efforts to strengthen primary school science education ensued and encouraged more students to seek technologically-oriented careers in service of a more robust space program.
In 2014, Ferry Farm archaeologists unearthed a tangible prize from this moment: a plastic toy “Sputnik” finger ring. Remember that Ferry Farm remained home to a variety of individuals and families in the centuries since the Washingtons lived there. The flashy gold-colored ring, originally dispensed from a gumball machine, featured an idealized image of the satellite and the word “SPUTNIK.” It was no doubt cherished by its original owner, and envied by the prospective young space explorer’s friends.
The Sputnik ring recovered archaeologically at George Washington’s Ferry Farm.A 3D image of the Sputnik ring.
As an archaeologist, the find confused me: why would toys commemorating Soviet satellites exist in the United States? Who would buy this celebratory object for their child? For goodness sake this land had once been Washington’s home, first president of the definitely-not communist United States. I foremost saw the object through a politico-military lens, rather than as a space-age wonder for all people.
In popular American culture of the late 1950s, the surprise of Sputnik frequently was one of delight rather than apprehension. For some, those cosmic beeps were inspirational, promising future space travel and technological progress. From this new age of cosmic exploration emerged songs, dance, theatre, literature, and graphic art.
A generation of young Americans, enthralled by science fiction adventures of Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon, could not contain their excitement. They were captivated by the real-life manifestation of their outer space fantasies. The launch excited children who dreamed of the day they might defend the earth against hostile invaders from space. Kids who spent their school days engaged in “duck and cover” drills ironically raced out to their back yard for a glimpse of the Soviet technology racing across the night sky.
The satellite orbited the earth for three months, though its radio signals tactfully subsided after three weeks. Sputnik’s orbit eroded 4 January 1958. Its effects were as far reaching as they were long lasting.
The Sputnik launch garnered a diverse array of reactions nationally and internationally: pride, disquiet, excitement, imagination, and infinite inspiration. The rich variety of these responses led to the creation of a wide range of material culture – objects as small and inexpensive as a child’s toy ring and as massive an investment as the Kennedy Space Center. People created – and experienced – music, technology, literature, dance, and theatre that allowed them to understand this event in ways relevant to their own lives. These responses reflect humankind’s desire to comprehend pivotal events that are beyond their control through personal agency. Material culture – artifacts – gives us the capacity to participate in, to understand, and to ‘own,’ grand events that are larger than we are.
This was true in the past as well, as the assorted artifacts analyzed daily at Ferry Farm attest. Prehistoric ground stone tools were an astonishing advancement in their time: this technology allowed our ancestors to maximize the nutritional benefits of nuts, seeds, and grains, to fell trees that made dwellings more comfortable, and to toss spears farther and with greater force. Such scientific wonders no doubt inspired non-ground stone-producing peoples to invest in technological developments of their own.
Have a Sputnik moment! Let’s redefine the phrase to commemorate the boundless scientific and artistic creativity that the launch stimulated, rather than the political anxiety that emerged. Create a technologically- or arts-inspired marvel of your own! Don’t avoid sputnik moments… pursue them. Show your support for World Space Week, which is held annually October 4-10. To learn more about this year’s events: http://www.worldspaceweek.org/
Laura Galke, Archaeologist
Site Director/Small Finds Analyst
Blough, Glenn O.
1957 “Children, Put Away Your Sputniks.” The Science Teacher 24(8):373-374.
Bonner, Thomas N.
1958 “Sputniks and the Educational Crisis in America.” The Journal of Higher Education 29(4):177-184, 232.
Brandau, Daniel
2015 “Demarcations in the Void: Early Satellites and the Making of Outer Space.” Historical Social Rsearch/Historische Sozialforschung 40(1[151]):239-264.
Cowen, Ron
2007 “Sputnik + 50: Remembering the Dawn of the Space Age.” Science News 172(14):216-217, 221.
Kabakchi, V. V. and Charles Clay Doyle
1990 “Of Sputniks, Beatniks, and Nogoodniks.” American Speech 65(3):275-278.
Launius, Roger D.
2009 “Abandoned in Place: Interpreting the U.S. Material Culture of the Moon Race.” The Public Historian 31(3):9-38.
As work continues on the reconstructed Washington family home at Ferry Farm, we archaeologists are continuing to identify items that were owned by the Washingtons so we can eventually fill the reconstructed house with plates, bowls, glasses, and many other objects based on artifacts we’ve discovered. Our latest mending project towards this goal involves glass tablewares. Piecing together thousands of fragments of clear tableglass is a special kind of agony but a wonderful amount of data has been collected from this painstaking exercise. And we’re not even close to being done yet! In this post, I’ve written about three of the glasswares we have identified in our study thus far.
LEAD GLASS BOTTLE
Fragment of the neck of a lead glass bottle excavated at George Washington’s Ferry Farm.
This particular fragment likely belonged to a small decanter or carafe. It could also possibly be part of a scent bottle, meant to hold perfumes. It was created using a pattern mold. The craftsman would have blown the glass into a simple mold with a ribbed pattern and then twisted it to get this diagonal line effect. He would finish the bottle by adding a separate piece of glass to create the delightful ‘ruffle’ on the neck. Below is an example of what the whole vessel may have looked like. Hopefully, we’ll find more fragments and know precisely what this piece is soon!
Lead glass bottle showing the ruffled neck on the fragment excavated at Ferry Farm.
FLIP CUP
Portions of a flip cup dug up by Ferry Farm archaeologists.
If you google ‘flip cup’, the first image result is a large red plastic cup commonly associated with college parties. The original flip cups were far more aesthetically pleasing. However, they too were used to enjoy recreational beverages. The drink called flip was the original cocktail and needed its own fancy glassware. Colonists loved flip and made it by combining a bizarre (by our modern standards) mixture of beer, hard liquor, spices such as nutmeg, a raw egg (a not uncommon ingredient in eighteenth century drinks), and then immersing a hot iron poker into the concoction. This resulted in a delightfully lukewarm eggy, boozy beverage that was then decanted into a decorative tumbler – the flip cup. While these cups were not only used for flip, the name has stuck. They are delicate and were often engraved with elaborate designs or scenes using a copper wheel. At Ferry Farm, we have a number of archaeological fragments of flip cups. Our examples are made of soda lime glass, not leaded glass, which is common.
Flip cup in the collection at Historic Kenmore. It features the same design as the fragments discovered at Ferry Farm.
VENETIAN GLASS
Archaeologists excavated this small fragment of Venetian glass at Ferry Farm.
This fragment represents what may be the fanciest glassware owned by the Washington family during their time at Ferry Farm. It is a piece of a pincered and buttressed handle that belonged on a vessel such as the beautiful goblet pictured below. Although the sherd may appear unassuming, it is likely part of an elaborate hand-blown Venetian piece made of finely crafted colorless soda lime glass with a barely visible bead of opaque glass running through the center. This would certainly have been a show piece and displayed prominently within the house.
The portion of the handle circled in red on this 16th century Venetian glass goblet is similar to the fragment excavated at Ferry Farm. Credit: The Metropolitan Museum of Art
Follow Lives & Legacies for updates on the Washington family’s glasswares we are identifying at Ferry Farm. More discoveries await!
Mara Kaktins, Archaeologist
Ceramics & Glass Specialist
During spring break last week, George Washington’s Ferry Farm hosted to Grandparent-Grandchild Archaeology Camp. Campers, young and old, got a crash course on the entire archaeology process at Ferry Farm and the importance of archaeology to history. From recording information and digging up artifacts to a behind-the-scenes lab tour and creating an artifact diorama, campers left with a new-found knowledge of what is beneath their feet! Here are some photos of the camp.
Preparing to dig.
Archaeologists have to record everything they do.
Taking soil depth measurements before digging.
Determining the soil color.
Digging.
“I found something!”
Screening to separate artifacts from dirt.
Carefully checking for artifacts after screening.
Artifacts get bagged.
Viewing Mary Washington’s punch bowl during an Archaeology Lab tour.
Learning about the glass mending project now happening in the lab.
Mending an ‘artifact’.
At the end of the day, campers were given an object that they used to create a diorama telling the story of the object.
We have a unique situation here at the Ferry Farm Archaeology Lab. One of our volunteers, who has spent hundreds of hours washing, sorting and labeling excavated artifacts, is oddly enough, also partially responsible for creating some of those artifacts in the first place!
Robert Bailey
Robert Bailey, his father Ray, mother Peggy and older brother Ray Jr., lived here at Ferry Farm from the late spring of 1957 until August of 1959. His parents rented what was referred to as the “Colbert house,” a large three-story home built in 1914 by James Colbert, a farmer and businessman.
Colbert House
Robert was only five years old when he moved to Ferry Farm. He vividly remembers playing in the many barns, running through the fields and woods that surrounded the farmhouse, and swimming in the stream that runs alongside the historic Ferry Road on hot summer days. He and his brother also showed visitors stopping to see George Washington’s boyhood home around the property and invited them to sign the guest book located inside the small late 19th century building called the Surveyor’s Shed.
Robert as a child (foreground left in the rocker) in the Colbert House back yard.
He also remembers playing with lots of toys typical of the time, most notably glass marbles, plastic army men, toy cars and trucks, and especially a new toy called Play Doh, a wallpaper cleaner compound that had just been reinvented as a moldable clay product for children.
Collection of 20th century items excavated at Ferry Farm. Clockwise from left: portion of a Playdoh canister lid, marbles including a large green shooter, green plastic army man, red plastic Indian, blue plastic Civil War soldier, four .22 caliber shelling casings.
Over 800 toy-related artifacts have been excavated and catalogued in our artifact database. As a collection, these toys span all time periods, from colonial clay marbles, to Civil War-era dice, to a Cold War-era Sputnik ring, and most recently, Dora the Explorer sunglasses! We have also catalogued fragments of bicycle parts, dominoes, board game pieces, dolls, plastic figurines, toy guns and planes, toy cars and trucks, and dishes and tea sets.
Of course, Robert and his brother were not the only children who lived on or visited this site. Other children lived in the Colbert house before and after the Baileys resided there, and hundreds have visited the site on field trips and for special events, such as our annual Fourth of July celebration.
Robert cannot say with any certainty that any of the marbles he has washed in the lab once belonged to him, but the conversations that those marbles start are an important part of the oral and archaeological history of the site. Robert Bailey has participated in the Foundation’s oral history program with a detailed accounting of his memories of the house and grounds. Because he experienced living at Ferry Farm, he can tell us about not only the events and activities his family took part in, but also of the perceptions that visitors to the farm had about the importance of this site as Washington’s boyhood home.
Another vivid childhood memory that often comes to Robert’s mind is of his mother shooting at the black snakes that appeared in and around the house and yard. According to Robert, one day a snake came out of a hole in an old gnarled tree located near the Surveyor’s Shed. His mother dutifully brought out her rifle and proceeded to, as Robert says, “blast away” at the snake. Despite the countless number of bullets expended, she missed and the snake eventually slithered back into its hole.
Surveyor’s Shed in the foreground left with Colbert House in the background right.
While washing artifacts in the wet lab, Robert has come across a lot of .22 shell casings. Just this past week he washed seven. Each time one appears in an artifact bag, Robert chuckles and says “this shell casing might be one that my mom shot at the snake in the tree – and missed!”
Robert looks over some of the 20th century items excavated at Ferry Farm that, who knows, might have belonged to him in his youth.
Sixty years have passed since the Bailey family first came to live at Ferry Farm, but the past certainly comes full circle and is alive again when Robert empties another artifact bag onto the tray and begins to sort its contents. His connection with our archaeological site provides staff with many opportunities to record and analyze more about Ferry Farm in the 20th century. Robert’s deep commitment to helping preserve George Washington’s boyhood history, combined with his own unique insights, creates a new understanding about Ferry Farm for Robert too.
Robert’s history lies mostly in the topmost soil layers of the site as not enough time has passed to deeply bury his things. Although Robert’s lost marbles and plastic army men are mixed in with excavated toys dropped by other boys and girls, it’s fun to hear him say “I wonder if this was mine?”
Fads come and go. Such is life. Eighteenth century colonists were not immune to flash-in-the-pan trends. However, given that information traveled a bit slower before the digital age, in the 18th century a ‘quick trend’ may have lasted 10 or 20 years, instead of 10 or 20 months. Such is the case with ‘vegetable ware’, a refined earthenware molded to look like produce. Imagine being the envy of all your colonial neighbors if you served them tea out of an elaborate ceramic cauliflower, pineapple, melon, or cabbage. As evidenced by the archaeological record, Mary Washington, George’ mother, was similarly taken with the prospect of displaying her very own veggie-themed teaware.
The advent of vegetable ware seems to coincide with the development of bright green and yellow pottery glazes by a young and upcoming potter named Josiah Wedgwood in 1760. He used these new flashy glazes for a number of applications, including coloring teaware molded to resemble produce. While some combinations of ceramics and decorations had previously enjoyed decades or even centuries of popularity in the past, the demand for the initially popular vegetable ware seemed to drop off after only ten years, around 1770. At that time, Wedgewood indicated he was glad to send a shipment of overstocked vegetable ware to the colonies – a popular dumping ground for out of fashion or slightly damaged English goods.
Mary seemed to prefer the pineapple form and owned at least one item, if not more, of this fruit-shaped tea equipage. Her preference for the tropical fruit design was not unique. In the 18th century, the pineapple was an incredibly sought after luxury item loaded with symbolism. Today, many of us, especially along the East Coast, associate the pineapple with welcoming guests into our home and as a decoration for the holidays. Colonial Americans considered it a Christian symbol as well as a display of status. They readily incorporated it into the architecture of their houses, decorated room interiors with the motif, and served food and beverages out of pineapple-shaped objects. These were all cheaper options than displaying an actual pineapple, which was well outside the price range of the average colonial American. In fact, there are accounts of people actually renting a real pineapple for a party rather than purchasing one outright. Rented fruit! Let that sink in for a second.
Returning to Mary’s ceramic pineapple, which is represented archaeologically by a dozen or so sherds. It is almost certainly some type of tea equipage, although we are not exactly
Vegetable ware sherds excavated at George Washington’s Ferry Farm.
sure which tea vessel it may be. The pineapple color and texture are unmistakable but we’ve yet to identify the specific object. A number of forms have been ruled out. It is not a tea or coffee pot because it appears to be relatively squat with a straight or very gently sloping body and a wide rim. What’s especially odd about this particular vegetable ware vessel is that the rim is unglazed. This would seem to suggest that it sported a lid of some kind or perhaps endured a defect during firing. Hopefully more of the vessel will come to light, we’ll be able to answer the question, and proudly display pineapple teaware in the newly recreated Washington house!
Mara Kaktins, Archaeologist
Ceramics & Glass Specialist
Lives & Legacies 