Lantern slide based on one of Joseph Boggs Beale's drawings. / THF622550
Joseph Boggs Beale produced illustrations used to create slides for magic lantern shows from the 1880s until about 1920. He was both artistic and prolific. During his career, Beale sketched over 2,000 images used in over 250 lantern slide sets. Beale's education and background led him to create illustrations that demonstrated a high level of cinematic quality for screen-projected images at a time before motion pictures. Ironically, it would be motion pictures that would end his career as a lantern slide illustrator.
Beale before Lantern Slides
Joseph Boggs Beale was born in 1841 to a well-connected Philadelphia family. His father was a prominent dentist, his late great-aunt was Betsy Ross (the seamstress whose family claimed she sewed the first United States flag), and his uncle Edmund Beale was a professional panorama showman. Entertainment opportunities abounded in one of the largest cities in the U.S.—and the Beale family took advantage of them. The Beales enjoyed theatrical productions and concerts, watched animal menageries pass by on the street, went to minstrel shows and panorama displays, and, of course, they saw magic lantern shows.
Magic lanterns use optical lenses and a light source to project images from glass slides onto a screen. / THF160397
Beale was an artistic child, and his family encouraged his talent. He attended Philadelphia's Central High School, where his artistic skills flourished. Later, he took classes at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts. Upon graduation from Central High School in 1862, the 21-year-old Beale became the school's professor of drawing and writing.
During the Civil War in 1863, as the Southern army invaded the quiet Pennsylvania farmlands west of Philadelphia, Beale joined the 33rd Pennsylvania Volunteers as the regimental artist. After a short stint with the military, he returned to teaching.
In 1865, Beale submitted a drawing of a baseball game to the editors of Harper's Weekly. The editors published it in the November issue. It was the beginning of his professional artistic career. Beale began submitting drawings to other major national periodicals, and soon his illustrations appeared in Frank Leslie's Weekly and Daily Graphic.
"Base-Ball Match" illustration in 1865 Harper's Weekly by J.B. Beale. / THF621986
Beale married Marie Taffard of Philadelphia in 1868. The couple moved to Chicago, Illinois, where Beale worked for Baker and Company, a firm that provided wood engraving to its clients. After his wife died, Beale returned to Philadelphia. There he met Caspar Briggs, owner of C.W. Briggs & Company, one of the country's premier lantern slide firms. Briggs originally hired Beale on a freelance basis. It was the beginning of a nearly 40-year career creating lantern slide illustrations.
Caspar Briggs's father, Daniel, started a lantern slide business in Massachusetts in the 1850s and transferred the company to his son in 1868. Caspar moved the company to Philadelphia in 1872—the city was rapidly becoming a hub for lantern slide production. Two years after the move, Briggs bought out Langenheim Brothers, a company noted for developing the process for photographic lantern slides.
One of the drawings created by Beale for a set of slides illustrating the hymn "Tell Me the Old, Old Story." / THF124495
Instead of using photographic images for his slides, Briggs decided to photograph illustrated works—wash drawings or paintings—made by his company’s artists to create lantern slides. Photographed onto glass, then usually hand-colored, these images recounted well-known stories and poems, chronicled history, and illustrated songs. Briggs's vision built an impressive body of work, making his company one of the leading producers of lantern slides in the country. Presentations using slides purchased from Briggs's company thrilled audiences and inspired political, religious, and fraternal organizations throughout America. The artistic and creative works of Joseph Beale would be central to Briggs's production of lantern slides.
Beale as a Lantern Slide Artist
Briggs first hired Beale on a freelance basis around 1880, one of several artists that Briggs employed. But Beale's artistic hand outshone the other illustrators at Briggs's company—or any other lantern slide company. Beale understood the storytelling power his illustrations could convey when projected onto a screen in a darkened room or theater.
A pivotal moment depicted by Beale from one of his illustrations for the "Life of Benjamin Franklin" series. / THF289382
Drawing on his childhood experiences, education, and early work, Beale created lantern slides that have been described as cinematic. He brought an artistic and dramatic continuity to the story and song sets he created. His detailed illustrations depicted defining moments of a story—moments that had to be conveyed in one slide, rather than in multiple moving images. And while his works are detailed, they are not distracting—organized images focus the viewer's gaze on important action. His illustrations are highlighted and shaded to provide a tonal range that, when transferred to glass and hand-painted by Briggs's colorists, imparted a quality rarely produced by other lantern slide artists. Beale knew how to tell a story using projected images and is considered one of the first great screen artists.
Portrait of Joseph Boggs Beale late in life. / THF289386
Magic lantern slide shows were in decline by 1900. The invention of motion pictures in the 1890s slowly began to displace lantern slide entertainment. Beale continued to work for Briggs but was laid off in 1909. He freelanced for Briggs until about 1920. By then, motion pictures dominated the screen entertainment industry. Beale died in 1926 and his illustrations were dispersed. Many found a home in museums and educational institutions across the United States, including The Henry Ford.
You can view original illustrations by Beale, and lantern slides based on his drawings, in The Henry Ford's Digital Collections.
Andy Stupperich is Associate Curator, Digital Content, at The Henry Ford.
This is the fourth of a series of blog posts presented in conjunction with the traveling exhibition, Louis Comfort Tiffany: Treasures from the Driehaus Collection. The exhibit, consisting of approximately 60 artifacts, is on view at Henry Ford Museum of American Innovation from March 6, 2021, through April 25, 2021. Many of the objects shown here are from the collections of The Henry Ford and provide background on themes in the exhibition; those not from our collection are credited by source.
By 1900, Louis Comfort Tiffany had transformed the Art Glass Movement, begun in the 1880s, into a much broader and more international trend. Working with his patented “Favrile” glass, which diffuses light on the surface into a shimmering, or iridescent effect, Tiffany transformed the glass world.
Working with Samuel Bing, the leader of the Art Nouveau movement in Paris, Tiffany became internationally renowned. European competitors like Loetz Art Glass, in what was then part of the Austrian Empire, took inspiration from Tiffany, and he, likewise took inspiration from them.
Tiffany also faced rivals in the American market. The most famous of these was the Steuben Glass Works, of Corning, New York, whose “Aurene” iridescent wares were almost indistinguishable from Tiffany’s own work.
Iridescent glass was extremely popular in the years between 1890 and 1920. Late Victorian era Americans were obsessed with showing off their good taste and wealth to family, friends, and neighbors. Conspicuous consumption and ostentatious materialism were bedrock beliefs in Victorian society. Glass for decoration was an important part of the Victorian interior, whether one was wealthy or of modest means. Both Tiffany and Steuben products were expensive, so other glass companies filled the void with lower-end wares. The punch bowl set above was made by the Northwood Glass Company of Wheeling, West Virginia, and would have been a prized possession in a moderate-income home. Known by collectors as “Carnival Glass,” it is also referred to as “Poor Man’s Tiffany.”
Following World War I, tastes began changing. The devastation of the war in Europe and the concurrent crumbling of monarchies and old social orders led society on both sides of the Atlantic to search for something new, something modern, and something different in their décor. By the mid-1920s, this led to a new, geometric style that we call Art Deco. Where Art Nouveau featured organic shapes seen in the work of Louis Comfort Tiffany and his contemporaries, Art Deco embraced the machine and geometric aesthetics. A good example of this is the “Victoire” hood ornament made by Rene Lalique, who had worked in the Art Nouveau style in the 1890s and early 1900s.
Stained Glass White Castle Sign, 1930s / THF101929
Tiffany Studio’s work remained rooted in Art Nouveau and sales plummeted in the 1920s. The Great Depression was the end for Tiffany. As one scholar noted, Tiffany lamps, vases, and decorative objects became fodder for tag and rummage sales in the 1930s and 1940s. Throughout this period there were lingering influences of Tiffany’s windows and aesthetic, as this stained-glass White Castle Hamburger sign shows.
The Tiffany Revival in the 1950s and 1960s
Following World War II, a flickering of interest in Tiffany’s artistry emerged in a number of museums. The Morse Gallery of Art in Winter Park, Florida, was one of the first museums to re-evaluate the contributions of Tiffany to American culture. In 1955, they organized Works of Art by Louis Comfort Tiffany, the first solo exhibition of Tiffany since his lifetime. Other museums, including Henry Ford Museum, began collecting Tiffany objects as early as 1954.
By 1959, the prestigious Museum of Modern Art in New York included Tiffany glass in their modern design gallery and produced a groundbreaking exhibit, Art Nouveau: Art and Design at the Turn of the Century. This reappraisal led to the beginning of new scholarship on Tiffany and a broader market for art glass among collectors from the 1960s onward.
The Revival of Tiffany in Popular Culture
Black Light Poster Featuring a Peace Sign, about 1968 /THF176507
Concert Poster for Electric Flag American Music Band, Moby Grape, and Steve Miller Blues Band at The Fillmore, 1967 / THF125134
Concert Tour Poster Blank, The Rolling Stones in Concert, 1969 / THF267787
The revival of interest in Tiffany’s work and in Art Nouveau in general comes into vogue through the counterculture of the 1960s. Many of this younger generation were called “hippies,” who sought out new directions in material culture. In this they referenced historicism, Victorianism, and just about anything that rebelled against the prevailing minimalism of mid-century modernism. So the highly decorative and organic qualities of Favrile glass appealed to them.
Two Farrell’s images above courtesy of Patrick Pehoski
As the 1970s dawned, the sense of nostalgia evoked by “hippie” culture began to come into mainstream material culture. One of the first ways this occurred was through “old-fashioned” ice cream parlors. One of the first of these to become mainstream was Farrell’s Ice Cream Parlour Restaurant. Founded in Portland, Oregon, in 1963, Farrell’s spread to approximately 120 locations by 1975. Each restaurant was designed to look like the 1910 era, complete with Tiffany hanging lamps and waiters and waitresses in period costumes.
Coca-Cola Chandelier, circa 1900, from Eurich’s Ice Cream Parlor, Dearborn, Michigan / THF7029
The postcard image above of Eurich’s Ice Cream parlor, formerly located in Dearborn, Michigan, shows an iconic view of the “old-fashioned” look, complete with a leaded hanging pendant Coca-Cola lamp, now in our collections.
By the early 1970s, Tiffany became more than a name—it became a style. At this time, “Tiffany” lamps were at the height of their popularity (like, for example, this lamp in the Tiffany style, made by Loevsky and Loevsky, about 1975).
United States Bicentennial Flag, circa 1976 / THF171693
United States Bicentennial Telephone circa 1976 / THF325912
With the United States Bicentennial in 1976, Americans became even more enamored with the nostalgia of the American past. This led companies like Wendy’s restaurants to emphasize their “old-fashioned” hamburgers and fill their early restaurants with bent-wood chairs and Tiffany-style stained glass lighting. Throughout the early 1980s, this nostalgia continued, although over the course of the decade, it began to wane.
What Happened to the Tiffany Style?
Sharp QT 50 Portable Radio Cassette Player, 1986 / THF88088
By the late 1980s, the Baby Boom generation that created the nostalgia fad of the 1970s had furnished their homes and were aging, while a new generation, seeking new decorative influences, came of age. This younger demographic found the “old-time” nostalgia of their elders somewhat stifling, preferring new sources, such as this Sharp brand radio cassette player, which derives its historical sources from the 1930s and 1950s. In turn, this trend known as “new age” or postmodernism, came and went by the early 1990s, as tastes changed again with generations.
Charles Sable is Curator of Decorative Arts at The Henry Ford.
What is the first thing you do when you have a question? Is your answer to type it into a conveniently located search bar? What would you do if that were not an option? How would you find reliable answers? Who would you ask? What sources would you trust?
The answer for most previous generations would be: Encyclopedias.
Encyclopedias are collections of large scopes of knowledge that are written by subject experts, vetted by editors, and published for the masses. They have been helping students, parents, and armchair experts for centuries—well before the dawn of the Internet. They also have a unique history all their own.
For the full story on encyclopedias, you have to travel back almost 2,000 years. In the Western world, the trend to document and disseminate knowledge starts with people like Pliny the Elder. Pliny’s Naturalis Historia is the Western world’s first encyclopedia to have survived the ages. Published around 77 CE, the 37 chapters in Naturalis Historia do not resemble a modern-day encyclopedia, but do include a multitude of facts from astrology to zoology.
The Naturalis Historia is only the start of what became a trend to document knowledge. The Middle Ages brought more encyclopedists like Pliny the Elder. These men—and yes, they were always men—were often associated with the church. Their encyclopedias were full of both knowledge and morality. These works, which were handwritten, could only be produced by monks with the time and dedication for such pursuits, and were often flawed. By having a single person attempt to compile the sum of all human knowledge, there were obvious gaps and biases. This, paired with the involvement of the church, meant that information was morally coded and gate-kept, as these early encyclopedias were far too valuable to leave monasteries.
It wasn’t until the 1750s that there was a popular encyclopedia that was widely available.
The Encyclopédie aimed to be a one-stop shop for all knowledge for the every-person. / THF620980
To solve the issue of a single contributor, and to make information available for a wide swath of the population, Denis Diderot published a total of 28 volumes of the now-infamous Encyclopédie, ou dictionnaire raisonné des sciences, des arts et des métiers (translated to Encyclopedia, or a Systematic Discovery of the Sciences, Arts, and Crafts). The Encyclopédie embodies the thoughts of the Enlightenment and was aimed at providing average citizens with knowledge that would not have been available to their ancestors. This was controversial at the time, as it moved access to knowledge away from religious authorities and presented it in a more democratic manner.
The Encyclopédie used this knowledge tree for structure. The main branches are History, Reason, and Imagination. / THF620982
Here, Diderot recruited experts in specific fields to write on topics they were familiar. This allowed a wider scope of information and helped to guarantee the validity of each entry. Diderot was able to recruit well-known thinkers like Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Voltaire, and Montesquieu to write entries for the encyclopedia, and even took on sections related to mechanical arts, economics, and a smattering of other topics himself.
Diderot’s Encyclopédie laid the groundwork for the next in the line of popular encyclopedias, an encyclopedia that would change the way entire populations accessed information—Britannica.
The Encyclopedia Britannica was devised by Colin Macfarquhar and Andrew Bell, who conceived of, printed, and designed all copper plates for the first edition. Another Enlightenment-inspired project, Britannica was first published serially in pamphlet form. Each edition of Britannica grew in length and scope, and with these changes, it grew in popularity.
The 1797 third edition of Encyclopedia Britannica more than doubled the scope of the previous two editions and started Britannica on the path to becoming a household name across the globe. / THF620752
Britannica is notable for a variety of reasons. It is the first encyclopedia to implement constant revisions to ensure the relevance and accuracy of information. By the 11th edition, it was published in complete sets, instead of serialized as it was written, and an additional index was developed to assist with organization of information. All these changes, plus a shift to American ownership, helped Britannica to skyrocket in popularity. By the 1920s, Sears Roebuck took ownership of Britannica and was able to sell complete sets through their mail-order catalogs.
This ad for a set of Encyclopedia Britannica grabs readers by informing them they will cost less than a typewriter or washing machine. / THF135870
The mass publishing of encyclopedias opened a whole world of information to the middle class. People no longer needed to camp out at libraries to finish papers or conduct basic research. Encyclopedias could be bought on installment plans for household and personal use. Other popular encyclopedias, like Americana and World Book, also flourished during this time.
Families would store encyclopedia collections on their bookshelves, often in public areas of their homes. This made them a small status symbol to show off for guests. / THF620097
Encyclopedias remained relevant through the advent of the Internet age, but encyclopedias do have one major flaw—they are out of date the moment they are printed. This, coupled with the cost of owning a full set of encyclopedias plus any additional supplements, led companies like Britannica to cease print publication in 2010.
That isn’t to say the idea behind encyclopedias has gone the way of the print publications. Sites like Wikipedia crowdsource information to create a massive Internet encyclopedia. Britannica, World Book, and others have adopted to online models. This method allows for more entries, up-to-date information, and easier access.
Kalamazoo, Michigan, is known for its industry. For a relatively small midwestern city, it became a leader in the production of an impressive number of products, some more readily remembered today than others—including celery, paper, stoves, taxicabs, guitars, craft beer, and pharmaceuticals. At the turn of the 20th century, the Kalamazoo Corset Company gave the city more reasons to be noticed—for its high output of corsets, the advertising used to sell them, and for an historic labor strike, led primarily by women.
The Kalamazoo Corset Company began as the Featherbone Corset Company. The company’s name changed in 1894, a few years after the company was relocated 70+ miles from Three Oaks, Michigan, to the city of Kalamazoo. As the original name suggests, the company prided itself on its innovative use of turkey wing feathers—“featherbone”—which replaced the occasionally malodorous whalebone corsets (while these corsets were referred to as containing “whalebone,” it was actually whale baleen that was used, which is not bone).
While the company featured numerous lines of corsets, by 1908, they were focusing on advertising for their “American Beauty” line. These corsets were named to reflect a version of an idealized American woman—an “American Beauty.” Charles Dana Gibson had created his version of the feminine ideal of physical attractiveness, the “Gibson Girl,” during the 1890s—this “American Beauty” followed in her footsteps. The company’s use of “American Beauty” also likely referenced a deep crimson hybrid rose bred in Europe in 1875, which by the turn of the 20th century was popularized in America as the rather expensive American Beauty Rose. By associating their corset line with both the concept of the quintessential American girl and the coveted American Beauty Rose, they were sending a message to the consumer—"buy our corset and you too will take on these qualities!”
Promotional songs that advertised a product were becoming increasingly popular at the time. Since the end of the Civil War, Americans had been purchasing parlor pianos for their homes in great numbers—as many as 25,000 per year. The parlor piano became the center of most Americans’ musical experience. Music publishers, like those in the famous Tin Pan Alley of New York City, took note and sold sheet music aimed at these amateur musicians. The rise of music publishing led to a new mode of advertising for retailers and manufacturers. How better to promote your product than by creating a tune that consumers could play in their homes? It seems the Kalamazoo Corset Company agreed, hiring Harry H. Zickel and the Zickel Bros. to write three such songs to advertise the “American Beauty” line: the “American Beauty March and Two-Step” (1908), “My American Beauty Rose: Ballad” (1910), and “My American Beauty Girl” (1912).
Around the time these songs were being written, issues at the company began to come to light. The company was a major employer in the area, employing 1026 people, 835 of whom were women, in 1911. This made the company the largest employer of women in Kalamazoo. First in 1911, and then again in 1912, around 800 mostly female workers went on strike. They formed the Kalamazoo Corset Workers’ Union, Local 82 of the International Ladies Garment Workers Union (ILGWU), and protested unequal wages, unsanitary working conditions, and sexual harassment.
The strike gained national attention and the ILGWU headquarters in New York City sent well-known women’s rights advocates Josephine Casey and Pauline Newman to Kalamazoo to assist in the negotiations. The strike looked to New York as an example—the infamous Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire and subsequent “Uprising of the 20,000” strike of 1909–1910 had sparked more uprisings, some far from New York City, as in Kalamazoo’s example.
The protesters received support from local unions, but the owner of the company, James Hatfield, was a prominent Kalamazoo businessman and was well-liked among his upper-class peers. Local women’s organizations did not come to the aid of the protestors. Even the local group of suffragettes did not openly support the strike, possibly due to class issues (the suffragettes were upper class, while the women protesting were working class) or because their focus was on getting a women’s suffrage amendment to the state’s constitution passed. The women of the Kalamazoo Corset Company faced an uphill battle to obtain even a semblance of equality in the workplace.
The strike ended on June 15, 1912, ultimately unsuccessful. While an agreement was reached which addressed many of Local 82’s demands, no measures were put in place to ensure adherence, and the company quickly lapsed in its promises. Within just a few years, James Hatfield left the company to begin another, and the company was renamed Grace Corset Company. Between the financial woes wrought by the strike and changing fashions, difficult days for the company were ahead.
The Kalamazoo Corset Company’s business was women—manufacturing garments for women, shaping idealized notions of women—but it was still unable to adequately value the many women it employed by creating an equitable and safe workplace. In the end, the inability of the company to recognize the value of the gender by which they made their business helped to ensure its downfall.
Katherine White is Associate Curator, Digital Content, at The Henry Ford.
Image of Martha Coston from her 1886 autobiography. (Not from the collections of The Henry Ford.)
Inventor Martha Coston overcame 19th-century gender stereotypes to help change the course of the Civil War, as well as boating safety. In 1848, tragedy struck when Martha’s husband, a successful inventor formerly employed in the Washington Navy Yard, died as a result of chemical exposure from his gas lighting experiments. His death was followed by the deaths of two of their children and a mother Martha was close to, and a relative mishandling Martha's remaining money. Martha was left a single mother with minimal support.
Sylvic Gas Light, B. Franklin Coston, Patentee, Washington City, D.C. N.B., Gas Light Generator, 1845. / THF287321
Martha needed a way to support herself and her two remaining children. Within her husband's papers, she discovered drawings for a pyrotechnic night signal that could be used by ships to communicate. After finding that the invention didn't work, she took on years of experiments in hopes of creating a functional signal flare. With no knowledge of chemistry or scientific methodology, Martha relied on others for help. Men often ignored her, didn't take her seriously, or deceived her.
Section of the First Transatlantic Cable, 1858. / THF77301
The signal set used three colors to create coded messages. As a patriotic woman, Martha wanted flares that burned red, white, and blue. While she had developed recipes for red and white, blue remained elusive. A breakthrough came in 1858, when Martha was in New York City watching fireworks during celebrations for the first transatlantic cable.
Illustration from an 1858 Harper's Weekly depicting the New York translatlantic cable firework celebration. / THF265993
Inspired by the fireworks, Martha wrote New York pyrotechnists looking for a strong blue, corresponding under a man's name for fear that she would be ignored. Instead of a blue, Martha was able to locate a recipe for a brilliant green. In 1859, Patent No. 23,536, a pyrotechnic night signal and code system, was granted, with Martha Coston as administrator—and her late husband as the inventor.
U.S. Army Model 1862 Percussion Signal Pistol, circa 1862. / THF170773
The U.S. Navy showed high interest in Martha's invention, but stalled the purchase of the patent until 1861, after the Civil War erupted. With a blockade of Southern ports in place, the Navy needed Martha's flares to communicate. Her business, the Coston Manufacturing Company, produced the flares and sold them at cost for the duration of the war. New York gun manufacturer William Marston produced the signal pistol above to exclusively fire Coston's multicolored signal flare.
A carte-de-visite depicting the "Official Escorts for the Japanese Ambassador's Visit to the United States,” circa 1860. Admiral David Dixon Porter is pictured right. / THF211796
In her 1886 autobiography,A Signal Success: The Work and Travels of Mrs. Martha J. Coston, Martha acknowledged the use of her flares in the success of the blockade. Confederate ships known as blockade-runners regularly sailed at night, and Coston's flares helped Union ships pursue these runners effectively, often resulting in prize money for the ship's officers. Admiral David Porter, pictured on the right above, wrote Martha about the impact her flares had on military operations, saying:
"The signals by night are very much more useful than the signals by day made with flags, for at night the signals can be so plainly read that mistakes are impossible, and a commander-in-chief can keep up a conversation with one of his vessels."
In January 1865, Wilmington, North Carolina, remained the last open port of the Confederacy. To cut the port off, Admiral David Porter and Major General Alfred Terry coordinated a joint assault of sea and land forces. The ensuing conflict, known as the Battle of Fort Fisher, resulted in a Union victory.
Illustration from an 1865 Harper's Weekly depicting the fall of Fort Fisher. / THF287568
According to Admiral Porter, Martha Coston's flares played a critical role. He later reminisced, "I shall never forget the beautiful sight presented at ten o'clock at night when Fort Fisher fell.... The order was given to send up rockets without stint and to burn the Coston Signals at all the yard-arms."
After the war, Martha Coston continued to improve upon her invention, filing several more patents—this time in her own name. When the United States Life-Saving Service, precursor to the United States Coast Guard, began using the Coston flare, Martha's invention became standard safety equipment for all boating vessels. Worldwide adoption of her invention led to the success of Martha's business, Coston Supply Company, which focused on maritime safety and stayed in business until the late 20th century.
Illustration from an 1881 Harper's Weekly depicting the United States Life-Saving Service using the Coston flare. / THF287571
Ryan Jelso is Associate Curator, Digital Content, at The Henry Ford.
George Washington Carver's Graduation Photo from Iowa Agricultural College and Model Farm (now Iowa State University), 1893 / THF214111
George Washington Carver and Food
George Washington Carver (1860s–1943) was born near the end of the Civil War in Missouri. He studied plants his entire life, loved art and science, earned two agricultural science degrees from Iowa State University, and shared his knowledge broadly during his 45-year-career at Tuskegee Institute. He urged farm families to care for their land. Today we call this regenerative agriculture, but in Carver’s day it amounted to a revolutionary agricultural ethic.
Carver’s curiosity about plants fueled another revolution as he promoted hundreds of new uses for things that farm families could grow and eat. Cookbooks inspired him to adapt, and he worked with Tuskegee students to test and refine recipes. Then he compiled them in bulletins that stressed the connection between the environment and human health.
Today, our chefs at The Henry Ford are inspired by Carver’s dozens of bulletins and hundreds of recipes for chutneys, roast meats, salads, and peanut-topped sweet rolls.
Some Possibilities of the Cow Pea in Macon County, Alabama, a 1910 bulletin by Carver featuring recipes. / THF213269
Developing Modern Carver-Inspired Recipes
All-Natural Chicken Breast with Tomato Plum Chutney at Plum Market Kitchen.
Carver is known to most of us for his many uses for the peanut. The Henry Ford’s culinary team looks to go beyond that, knowing that there is so much more to his legacy. Cultural appropriation is a hot topic in the world of food service today, but as a public history institution, we recognize that food is culture, and we are committed to authentic representation of a variety of food traditions. We are constantly collaborating and developing new recipes in consultation with our curators, who provide expert understanding and context. Part of the mission that drives our chefs is to understand the full story, and to help all our guests complete that experience as well.
Kale, Roasted Peanut, and Pickled Red Onion Salad with Molasses Vinaigrette at Plum Market Kitchen
Many aspects of Carver’s legacy are woven into a modern menu at Plum Market Kitchen at The Henry Ford. Today, the ideas of all-natural, healthy, and organic have become “tag lines” to sell you food. However, for Carver, and for Plum Market Kitchen, these have always been a driving ideology. Together, The Henry Ford and Plum Market Kitchen have taken inspiration from many of Carver’s recipes—always looking to honor and continue his legacy.
Sweet Cream Succotash: Edamame, Corn, Peppers, and Vegetables at Plum Market Kitchen.
While our new recipes at Plum Market Kitchen are inspired by Carver, with modern adaptations, our new offerings in A Taste of History are more directly drawn from Carver’s own recipes and the ingredients he used. Watch this post for more information coming soon on new menu options in Greenfield Village!
Farmhouse Roasted Sweet Potatoes at Plum Market Kitchen.
If you’d like to further explore the life and work of George Washington Carver, issues surrounding food security, historic recipes, or dining at The Henry Ford, here are some additional resources across our website:
Take a closer look at Black empowerment through Black education with the microscope used by agricultural scientist George Washington Carver during his tenure at the Tuskegee Institute in Alabama.
Throughout Carver’s life, he balanced two interests and talents—the creative arts and the natural sciences. Find out how each influenced the other.
This is the third of a series of blog posts presented in conjunction with the traveling exhibition, Louis Comfort Tiffany: Treasures from the Driehaus Collection. The exhibit, consisting of approximately 60 artifacts, is on view at Henry Ford Museum of American Innovation from March 6, 2021, through April 25, 2021. The lamp shown here is from the collections of The Henry Ford and provides background on themes in the exhibition.
In preparing for the Louis Comfort Tiffany: Treasures from the Driehaus Collection exhibit, The Henry Ford’s curatorial department expressed interest in displaying a Tiffany Studios early floor lamp, circa 1900, from our collections. This lamp features a telescopic shaft and a dual wick kerosene burner for extra illumination.
Our Tiffany lamp (THF186213) as compared to images from Tiffany publications.
In Tiffany publications, the lamp rests on an outer cushion-textured base with six ball-shaped feet. However, the outer base from The Henry Ford’s lamp was missing, with no previous record of its existence when it entered our collection in 1966.
Discussions between Curator of Decorative Arts Charles Sable and conservators led to the decision to create a replica lamp base to ensure both historical accuracy and physical stability to the tall, rather top-heavy floor lamp. The completed object would provide viewers with a more accurate interpretation and the opportunity to experience the object whole, as it was originally designed.
It’s All about the Base
We embarked upon an effort to locate a similar base in museums or private collections to serve as a reference or pattern, to inform the creation of a replacement base—only to discover that the lamp is quite rare. So instead, I decided to create a model base using a CAD (computer-aided design) program, with the design based on photographs from Tiffany publications and auctions. The museum’s lamp was used as a physical frame of reference for measurements and comparisons in CAD. I reached out to several 3D-printing shops to determine if they could use my CAD design to generate a three-dimensional plastic base. Ultimately, the base was printed with the help and generosity of the additive manufacturing team at the Ford Advanced Manufacturing Center.
The above images are the CAD model of the base from different angles.
Ford Motor Company and its Advanced Manufacturing Center (AMC) offered their additive manufacturing expertise and capabilities. Their team includes Global Chief Engineer Mike Mikula, Rapid Prototype Subject Matter Expert Scott Gafken, Technical Leader in Additive Manufacturing Harold Sears, Additive Manufacturing Engineer Supervisor Jay Haubenstricke, and Supervisor Additive Manufacturing John Phillips.
Collaborative discussions with Scott Gafken revealed that the process would take about 24 hours, which included printing as well as model cooldown for handling. The EOS P770 was employed as an industrial selective laser sintering (SLS) printer and produced the print in Nylon 12 (also known as Polyamide 12 or PA12). The printing material was selected based on its ability to bear the weight of the lamp, and someday be a candidate for an investment casting, for the creation of a metal base.
The white image shows the Polyamide 12 print of the base at the Ford Advanced Manufacturing Center. The image with painter’s tape was taken during the process of painting the base. Achieving a finish that matched the original metal lamp required the application of several layers of paint. The image with only one small white section shows the completed base after gloss varnish was applied.
The bronze surface of the lamp was shades of brown with hints of red, orange, and green. These shades are similar to several paint colors: raw umber, chromium oxide green, sepia, burnt sienna, and yellow oxides. The colors were mixed into several formulations to closely match the patina (aged finish) of the lamp. Diluted paint was applied in layers to allow the variations in the tones to be seen. After discussions with the curator and members of our Experience Design department, we made the decision to leave one section of 3D-printed surface unpainted, to allow visitors to see it in the exhibit.
The replica base was painted with the actual lamp present to ensure a match.
Beyond the base, other aspects of our conservation treatment included the cleaning of the Tiffany lamp with a bristle brush and vacuum. Wet cleaning included a dilute blend of anionic and nonionic detergents in distilled water, applied with cotton rags and cotton swabs. Residual detergent was then removed with a distilled water wipedown.
A protective barrier of wax was introduced via hot wax application. The bronze surface was heated with a hot air gun and microcrystalline wax was applied and left to cool down. A boar-bristle brush and bamboo picks were used to remove excess wax. The brush and cotton rags were then used to buff the wax layer, resulting in a uniform sheen.
Details of the lamp both before cleaning and after cleaning and wax application.
Lorraine-Detrich Automobile Driven by Arthur Duray at the Vanderbilt Cup Race, Long Island, New York, 1906 / THF203486
Early American Racing: A Compulsion to Prove Superiority
The quest for automotive superiority began on the track. Innovation proved to be king—it is the fuel that built reputations, generated interest and investment, and paved the way to newfound glory.
Near the end of the 19th century, the infant auto industry was bursting at the seams with ideas, experiments, and innovations. The automobile was new and primarily a novelty—as soon as there were two cars on the road, their builders and drivers were compelled to race each other. Being competitive: It’s just human nature. Which was the best car, the best driver?
Automobile races soon became a proving ground, where carmakers could showcase their design and engineering prowess. Winning built reputations, generated interest and attracted investment.
The “Dawn of Racing” section of our new exhibit, Driven to Win: Racing in America, immerses you in an exploration of the early days of racing, using period settings, images, and authentic artifacts. It features two of America’s most significant early race cars.
Henry Ford only ever drove one race, on October 10, 1901, and that was in the car they called “Sweepstakes.” He certainly was the underdog, but against all odds he won. In Driven to Win, you will discover the innovations that Ford developed for “Sweepstakes” that helped him achieve that remarkable victory. It gave a powerful boost to his reputation, brought in financial backing that helped launch Ford Motor Company, and a few years later, Ford Motor Company put America—and much of the world—on wheels with the Model T.
Driving “Old 16” in the 1908 Vanderbilt Cup race, George Robertson scored the first victory by an American car in a major international auto race in the United States. At that time, the Vanderbilt Cup race was world-famous and highly prestigious, and “Old 16” became known as “the greatest American racing car.” In Driven to Win, you will learn about and see firsthand the expertise, craftsmanship and attention to detail that made this car a winner.
Deborah Sussman began her design career as an intern at the Eames Office in 1953. There, over the course of a decade, she was promoted to an art director and worked on graphic design, exhibitions, films, toy design, packaging, and photography. In 1963, she acted as designer for the “Beware of Imitations” image below, with Charles and Ray Eames as creative directors. Appearing as an advertisement in Arts & Architecture magazine, it celebrated Eames-designed furniture produced by Herman Miller. The image is a fascinating herald, hinting at how Sussman’s approach toward the power of large-scale graphics to communicate within environments would define her future vision.
Herman Miller “Beware of Imitations” Advertisement. / THF147716
The foundation image was printed to poster size and affixed to the outside wall of the Eames Office, where it was photographed in situ. The weathered brick wall, scrabbly Californian plant life, and spray-painted stencil additions surrounding the paste-up add texture to the image, revealing it to be evidence of a process. An image at the Library of Congress takes us one step further into this moment, revealing Sussman pasting up the original work.
If you look closely toward the bottom left of this image, you will also see a bouquet of flowers on a placard with the text, “Zeeland, Michigan.” Zeeland is, of course, home to the Herman Miller company, but the floral design has its own interesting lifespan. It appears on Herman Miller’s stock certificates and on the underside of a kiosk designed by the Eames Office for the IBM Pavilion at the 1964 New York World’s Fair. Sussman is credited with contributing to both projects.
Kiosk from the IBM Pavilion at the 1964 New York World’s Fair. / THF156766
Detail of the underside of the IBM Kiosk. / THF171121
Sussman left the Eames Office temporarily to continue her design studies through a Fulbright scholarship in Germany, but was eventually “lured back” to California to work on the Mathematica exhibit. When The Henry Ford acquired the 1964 version of the Mathematica exhibit (now on permanent view in Henry Ford Museum of American Innovation), extensive research was undertaken in the Charles & Ray Eames Papers at the Library of Congress to create the most historically accurate version of the exhibit possible. Photographs at the Library of Congress documented numerous contributions made by women to the exhibit’s design, including Sussman, Ray Eames, and many others. Sussman, for her part, once recounted setting the type for the mathematician biographies that appear on the History Timeline and also appears in a photograph working on the graphics for the base of the Multiplication Cube interactive.
Detail of the Multiplication Cube from the Eames Office-designed Mathematica exhibit. / THF164150
Detail of the History Timeline in Mathematica. / THF170845
In 1968, Sussman formed an independent design practice as Sussman/Prejza & Co. with her husband, Paul. Together they designed things like the “urban branding” for the cities of Long Beach and Santa Monica, California, and wayfinding signage for Walt Disney World and EuroDisney. Her favorite kind of work involved vibrant, larger-than-life graphic and typographic treatments installed in architectural spaces and outdoor urban areas. For this work, she is credited as a pioneer of “environmental design” and “Supergraphics.”
Design Preview / Brand Identity Guidelines for the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics. / THF287946
This approach is especially obvious in her design identity work for the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics. The look and feel of the LA Olympics—created by Sussman/Prejza & C0. in collaboration with the Jerde Partnership—transformed the city of Los Angeles. The holistic plan was for “an energetic montage of color and form [to] appear on everything from tents to tickets.” There were 43 art installations, 28 game venues, 3 Olympic villages, and wayfinding signage. There was a monumental 145-foot tower of colorful scaffolding erected in Exposition Park. Color-coded gateways and walkways lined with concrete “Sonotubes” wrapped in bright abstract graphics. Uniforms for officials and volunteers.
An entire issue of Design Quarterly was dedicated to the project, in which the designers explained their hopes for a successful event as “a modern environment that recalls the imageable qualities of a medieval jousting festival” and one that anticipated that “the city will be transformed overnight, as if an invasion of butterflies has descended upon it.”
Souvenir Street Banner designed by Deborah Sussman for the LA 1984 Olympics. / THF171692
Color played an essential role in unifying the visual language of color, graphics, and typographic treatments. Notably, Sussman broke away from the palette of traditional red, white, and blue, and captured the “Southern California spirit” through shades of vibrant magenta, vermillion, aqua, purple, and sunset orange. A favorite quote in the Design Quarterly issue states: “The glorious colors—the banners, the kiosks and booths, even the trash cans and hot dog napkins—were happily original, all Toyland confetti, in light and airy shades all their own. We get enough of red-white-and-blue everywhere else, don’t we?”
Partial credit to Sussman’s approach can be connected to her early training at the Eames Office, where her mentors emphasized the value of playfulness. There, she had the opportunity to document festivals in other countries. She learned to appreciate folk art and the indigenous cultures of the Pacific Rim. And the “kit of parts” approach to design was part of everyday life at the Eames Office too, which undoubtedly influenced Sussman’s own adaptable “visual alphabet” for the 1984 LA Olympics. Today, her contributions for this and other projects stand as beloved and masterful examples of environmental graphic design. Like many designers who passed through the Eames Office, Deborah Sussman took what she learned, remixed it, and made it an evolved and color-saturated language all her own.
Kristen Gallerneaux is Curator of Communications & Information Technology at The Henry Ford.