Past Forward

Activating The Henry Ford Archive of Innovation

This is the fifth and final in 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. This post draws connections with art and craft today, and to the work of the artists of Greenfield Village’s Liberty Craftworks.

Metal rods with flame visible in the out-of-focus background

Touring the current exhibit Louis Comfort Tiffany: Treasures from the Driehaus Collection gives me pause and allows me time to reflect on a career spent in craft. As an artist working at a world-class museum, I am afforded a unique opportunity to explore these connections in a variety of ways. Craft, to me, at its core is about connections, whether through the physical touch of an object, the experience of making, or our basic human desire to create. They not only signify our fundamental needs and speak to functionality, but they can also serve to illustrate our thoughts and ideas.

Crafts and human beings have been inextricably tied for eons. Ceramics and textiles are ancient, reaching back to the dawn of civilization. For example, the art of glassblowing dates to 50 BC, starting with the Phoenicians in Mesopotamia. Because of this lineage, I find a deep personal connection to materials and processes. Each has its own language to decode and understand, and therefore, a unique resonance for me. When making work, I look to what materials seem most appropriate—steel speaks a different language than wood, and glass than ceramics, each eliciting a different response from the viewer. The relationship to each material is also directly related to the creative process. I find that these bonds stem not only from the solitude of practice but also from how materials interact when placed together. I am often surprised how similar they all are—like romance languages stemming from Latin, they seem to have a singular focus at their core.

This connectivity has transformed our digital world. For centuries, craft has lived in the guild system of master and apprentice, and this long-standing arrangement has created a path for generations to pass on the skills and traditions of each artist. Today in America, this tradition has primarily been assigned to universities, which are now tasked with the distillation of information from lengthy apprenticeships (glassmaking was a seven-year appointment) to a few short years. However, as a former college faculty member, I witnessed student skills develop rapidly in this digital age. The level of sophistication and awareness that students arrive with is far more advanced than previously, given the rise of social media. Digital communication has shortened the learning curve for young artists in understanding their craft. When viewed as a resource, certain pitfalls of making and unique techniques can be shared and recognized through social media platforms like Instagram and YouTube. No longer are artists islands unto themselves, but part of a global community where information and understanding are at their fingertips. But make no mistake, there is no shortcut for honing skills. Craft will always demand the prolonged communication that an artist has with their chosen medium.

Black-and-white photo of hand clutching tool with other tools nearby

Occasionally, my role at the museum requires me to create exact reproductions for use in programming and I relish the chance to search through the collection with our curators discovering hidden treasures. The opportunity to study artifacts from hundreds of years ago is one I am truly grateful to have. Here, in front of me, are the movements and expressions of each artist left crystallized for me to examine. I think of all the craftspeople that came before me, how their movements transcend time, and their work on display for me to experience in my own way. The craft hasn’t changed, the actions of the artist are still the same—it is the unspoken language of craft, the secret language that makers speak. 


Joshua Wojick is Crafts and Trades Program Manager at The Henry Ford. You can see Joshua, along with Curator of Decorative Arts Charles Sable, walk you through a live demo in Greenfield Village’s Glass Shop on our Facebook page here.

making, Louis Comfort Tiffany, Greenfield Village, glass, by Joshua Wojick, art

Narrow, two-story brick building with facade featuring oversize figures and a clock

Sir John Bennett. / THF17783

For decades, Sir John Bennett's shop—with its figures of mythological giants Gog and Magog—has intrigued and enthralled Greenfield Village's visitors. Prior to 1930, the jewelry and clock shop was a popular presence many thousands of miles away in London, where its animated giants chimed the quarter-hours above the busy thoroughfare of Cheapside.

While London and Dearborn would seem to have little in common, Gog and Magog—if they could talk, as well as chime—might disagree. Exposure to the weather has been a continuous element in their over 125 years of timekeeping in both England and America. Climate has taken its toll on the figures. So, during the winter of 2005–2006, The Henry Ford undertook an extensive restoration of the Sir John Bennett figures.

Clock Figures


This was not the first time that the figures, or "jacks," as they are known in the world of clocks, had been given a thorough restoration. When Henry Ford originally brought them to the United States in 1931, he had them repaired and repainted. A second restoration and repainting took place in the 1970s.


Statue base and sculpted feet of very cracked wood
Pre-restoration deterioration on the feet of one of the carved wooden figures.

The 2005–2006 restoration, in addition to reversing damage and safeguarding Gog and Magog for future generations, also offered an opportunity to attempt to determine what the wooden figures originally looked like. Deeply carved recesses were carefully excavated in order to discover clues to the original color scheme. Conservators also studied a similar set of Gog and Magog figures in London's Guildhall; a set in Melbourne, Australia; and many historical prints and illustrations to compare our paint analysis with other known examples.

One finding was that the giants' chain mail had, at some point, been painted the color of their clothing. The chain mail is now painted to look like metal rather than cloth. Areas of the giants' armor were found to have traces of gold leaf in the recesses. Also, successive paint layers and weathering had obscured a number of decorative elements in the giants' armor. Previous restorations had used gold-colored paint on the armor, which eventually oxidized and turned brown. In 2005–2006, all the decorative armor components were coated with gold leaf.

The figures themselves were in poor structural condition, with many breaks and numerous large cracks. With a view to preserving as much of the original figures as possible, the decision was made to inject a deep penetrating resin into the porous wood, rather than cut out and replace damaged sections.

Two colorful sculptures of bearded men wearing elaborate costumes
Newly restored Gog and Magog await their return to the Sir John Bennett shop.

Of course, Gog and Magog are not the only figures in the facade of the building—Father Time and a Muse are also in attendance to assist in the job of chiming. Made of plaster rather than wood, these figures were given structural repairs and then gilded with 1,400 sheets of gold leaf. During the repair work on the Muse, decorative elements were discovered on the harp under layers of paint and filler. The decoration was carefully restored, and can be seen on the front vertical post of the harp. A maker's name, "Brogiotti," was also revealed during the restoration.

Finally, the internal mechanisms for all four figures were repaired, and additional lubrication points were added to help minimize future wear.

Two golden statues, one of a woman wearing flowing robes and one of a figure with wings, in a workroom
Father Time and the Muse show off their new coats of gold leaf.

The Clock


The clock mechanism was in need of a complete overhaul. Many of the bronze bearings—separate components fitted into the clock movement's large cast iron frame—had become worn and needed to be "re-bushed" to bring the mechanism back to its original operating specifications. During cleaning, conservators discovered that all of the cast iron framing was originally painted a blue-green with white pin striping. All of this original paint was carefully cleaned and preserved.

Man using a screwdriver on a large and elaborate piece of machinery
Conservator Malcolm Collum reassembles the restored Sir John Bennett clock movement.

During the 1931 reconstruction of the building and clock in Greenfield Village, a number of components were replaced. Cleaning the mechanism helped us gain a better understanding of the extent of Henry Ford's restoration: the modern steel components lack the dark graining found in the original wrought iron pieces. These dark lines are called "slag inclusions," remnants of a glass-like material that gets worked into the iron during the smelting and production processes.

Weathervane


Gog and Magog receive the most attention from visitors—understandably, given their size, character, and animation—but higher up, fully exposed to everything the Michigan climate has to offer, is one of the most vivid elements of Sir John Bennett's shop: the dragon weathervane. The dragon—made of hammered copper and detailed with sharp claws, taut bat-like wings and a fiery tongue—is a quiet masterpiece of design, craftsmanship, and balance. Its swept-back wings and extended tail are designed to catch even the slightest breeze; its head is weighted with lead in order to balance the body and allow for free pivoting.

Man suspended from crane holds onto an elaborate metal weathervane in the shape of a dragon with decorative elements underneath
The dragon weathervane is readied for removal from its perch.

When the dragon was removed from its perch in late 2005, it was found to be in stable condition. Structural repairs were followed by a thorough cleaning to remove corrosion and degraded metallic paint. Finally, rather than simply repaint the dragon, we returned it to its original splendor with a coat of gold leaf.

Bright gold, partially shiny and partially dull, figure of dragon with tools and implements nearby
Dragon weathervane during gilding.

Repaired and resplendent, silhouetted against a Dearborn rather than a London sky, the dragon once again watches over the visitors who gather to watch Gog and Magog.


Malcolm Collum is former Conservator at The Henry Ford and Marc Greuther is Chief Curator and Vice President, Historical Resources, at The Henry Ford. This post originally ran as part of our Pic of the Month series in May 2006.

#Behind The Scenes @ The Henry Ford, research, Greenfield Village buildings, Greenfield Village, conservation, collections care, by Marc Greuther, by Malcolm Collum, art

Small square buggy with four large wooden wheels and cushioned seat covered with a canopy
THF90435

Factory-built buggies made the pleasures of carriage ownership affordable for a new group of people. Whether in town or on the farm, people loved these inexpensive, lightweight vehicles. The piano box buggy—named for its resemblance to 19th-century square pianos—was the most popular of all. Buggy owners quickly became accustomed to the freedom and control offered by personal vehicles.

Print of large multi-building factory with smoke coming from many smokestacks; also contains text
Buggies in many styles poured out of factories by the thousands during the late 1800s. / THF124829

Page with illustrations of and text about buggies and other products
People could even buy buggies from mail-order catalogs. / THF119797

Man and infant in buggy hitched to horse
Farmers especially enjoyed owning buggies—designed to carry people—rather than having to go everywhere in a farm wagon made to haul goods. This typical buggy at a Michigan farm in 1894 is occupied by Milton Bryant and his sister Clara’s son, Edsel Ford. / THF204970

Page with images and text
Owning a buggy meant feeding, watering, and cleaning up after a horse. These ongoing costs made early automobiles seem less expensive by comparison. / THF212464 (detail)


This post was adapted from an exhibit label in Henry Ford Museum of American Innovation.

Henry Ford Museum, Driving America

Two-story white house with black shutters, surrounded by lawn and a few trees

THF1882

With Greenfield Village reopening soon, you’ll find something new at the Noah Webster Home!

Room with patterned floor and walls containing a large, set table with many mismatched chairs
THF186494

We have reinstalled the formerly sparsely furnished Webster dining room to better reflect a more active family life that took place in the Webster household at the time of our interpretation: 1835.

Painting of man with white hair in dark suit and white cravat, sitting in an armchair and holding a piece of paper
THF107986

Noah and Rebecca Webster moved to their New Haven, Connecticut, home in their later years to be near family and friends, as well as the library at nearby Yale College. This painting of Noah dates from about this time.

Painting of seated woman in dark dress with light collar and hat
THF119510

The Websters moved into their comfortable, newly-built home on Temple Street in New Haven in 1823. This portrait shows Rebecca Webster from about this time as well.

Room with table and four chairs, as well as fireplace with doors on either side,
THF147812

New research and evolving historical perspective often lead us to reinterpret Greenfield Village buildings. So, furnishings change to reflect these richer or more accurate stories. This is what the Webster dining room looked like in 1947.

Dining room with elaborate furnishings, including set table and chairs and two sideboards
THF147776

In 1962, the Webster house was refurnished to showcase fine furnishings in period room-like settings—rather than reflecting a household whose elderly inhabitants started housekeeping decades before.

Room with patterned blue wallpaper containing fireplace, bed, chest of drawers, chairs
THF186507

In 1989, after meticulous research on the house and on the Webster family, the home was beautifully transformed, and its furnishings more closely reflected the Webster family’s lives.

Narrow room with one window, chair and desk, two dressers, and other furnishings
THF53248

You could imagine the Websters living there. This is Rebecca Webster’s dressing room.

Mostly empty room with patterned floor and wallpaper, containing a few chairs and side tables
THF147817

Yet the dining room was sparsely furnished. The 1989 reinstallation suggested that the Websters were “in retirement” and “withdrawn from society,” and didn’t need or use this room much.

Pair of boots lying on patterned blue floor next to chair with tub; rags nearby
THF53258

The dining room was presented as a seldom-used space in the Webster home during the mid-1830s. This detail showed boots being cleaned in the otherwise unused room.

Part of carpeted and wallpapered room showing fireplace, sideboard, table and chairs
THF186509

Webster family correspondence and other documents paint a picture of a household that included not only family activities, but more public ones as well, during the 1830s and beyond.

Black-and-white photo of tree-lined road with houses with low fences along both sides
THF236367

Daughter Julia Goodrich and her family lived down the street and were frequent visitors. The Webster house appears at far right in this photo of Temple Street taken in the 1920s.

Oval painting in elaborate gold and dark frame of woman in white dress with dark curly hair standing between two large columns
THF174984

Webster children and grandchildren who lived farther away came for extended visits. Daughter Eliza Jones and her family traveled from their Bridgeport, Connecticut, home for visits.

Canopy bed in a room with patterned carpet and wallpaper
THF186515

At times, some Webster family members even joined the household temporarily. They could stay in a guest room in the Webster home.

Engraving of street scene with trees, buildings, people, and an oxcart in the foreground
THF204255

Webster’s Yale-attending grandsons and their classmates stopped in for visits and came to gatherings. This print shows Yale College—located not far from the Webster home—during this time.

Room containing bookshelves, armchair, and table and side chairs
THF133637

The Webster family home was also Noah’s “office.” He had moved his study upstairs in October 1834, met there with business associates and students.

Room with patterned carpet, green walls, table and chairs in middle of room and additional chairs around the perimeter
THF53243

Guests—including visiting clergymen, publishing associates, Yale faculty, and political leaders—would have called at the house or would have been invited to gatherings in the home. This is the Webster parlor.

Long set table with mismatched chairs in room with patterned carpet and wallpaper
THF186495

To help reflect the active family life that took place in the Webster household in 1835, the new dining room vignette suggests members of the extended Webster family casually gathering for a meal.

Mismatched chairs along side of table; fireplace in background
THF186496

The room’s arrangement is deliberately informal, with mismatched chairs. Hepplewhite chairs that are part of the dining room set are supplemented by others assembled for this family meal.

Corner of set table with mismatched chairs; fireplace behind
THF186497

A high chair is provided for the youngest Webster grandchild.

End of table covered with cloth with dominos and plate of scones on it; additional dominos on patterned floor below
THF186498

The grandchildren’s domino game was quickly set aside as the table was set and three generations of the family began to gather.

Corner of set table with chairs; fireplace with mantel behind and patterned wallpaper on walls
THF186500 

The dining room furnishings, like those in the rest of the home, reflect a household whose elderly inhabitants started housekeeping decades before. The Websters would have owned most of their furniture, tableware, candlesticks, and other items for decades. The Connecticut-made clock on the mantel would have been a bit newer, since it dates from 1825–1835.

Wooden chair with back slats in shield shape and dark blue satin seat
THF186499

But the Hepplewhite style chairs—no longer in fashion—would have been purchased more than 30 years before.

Table containing white dishes with blue pattern; wallpapered wall in background
THF186501

The early 1800s Chinese export dishes would have likely been bought decades before. Quite fine and fashionable when new, the sturdy dishes would have survived to be used at everyday meals and for family gatherings many years later.

Clear glass lamp with etched pattern on tablecloth with dishes and silverware at place settings nearby
THF186503

The Websters would have acquired other furnishings more recently--including newly available whale oil lamps, which provided brighter lighting than candles. In coastal New Haven, whale oil was readily available.

Window with curtains surrounded by wallpapered wall
THF186505

Stylish curtains of New England factory-made roller-printed cotton fabric are gracefully draped over glass curtain tiebacks and decoratively arranged.

Meat roast (partially sliced), jello mold, and round loaf of bread on plates on table, with place settings nearby
THF186506

Do stop by the Noah Webster Home when Greenfield Village opens this spring and see what the Websters are having for dinner as they “gather” with their children and grandchildren! And for even more Village building makeover stories, see also this recent post from Senior Curator and Curator of Public Life Donna Braden.


Jeanine Head Miller is Curator of Domestic Life and Charles Sable is Curator of Decorative Arts at The Henry Ford.

Noah Webster Home, home life, Greenfield Village history, Greenfield Village buildings, Greenfield Village, furnishings, food, by Jeanine Head Miller, by Charles Sable, #THFCuratorChat, #Behind The Scenes @ The Henry Ford

Large piece of beige metal equipment with round yellow screen (?) at one end and buttons and switches

THF154728

The growth of commercial aviation in the United States presented a challenge—how could airports control aircraft within the increasingly crowded space around them? The earliest efforts at air traffic control were limited to ground crew personnel waving flags or flares to direct planes through takeoffs and landings. Needless to say, this system needed improvement.

The first air traffic control tower opened in 1930 at Cleveland Municipal Airport. Pilots radioed their positions to the tower, where controllers noted the information on a map showing the positions of all planes within the airport's vicinity. Controllers radioed the pilots if a collision seemed possible and gave them permission to land or take off. Soon, all large American airports employed towers operated by the airports' respective municipal governments and staffed by growing crews. Smaller airports, though, remained dependent on a single controller (who might also handle everything from the telephone switchboard to passenger luggage). Additionally, some pilots treated controllers' instructions as mere suggestions—the pilots would land when and where they pleased.

Two planes and several people in open field near low building
Before air traffic controllers began communicating with pilots by radio, airports relied on ground crew personnel to direct planes through takeoffs and landings. / detail of THF94919

Airlines recognized the need for formal oversight and attempted to supply it themselves. They formed Air Traffic Control, Inc., in 1936 to regulate traffic at larger airports. This new agency worked well but applied only to commercial aircraft. It became clear that only federal supervision could regulate all commercial and private air traffic at the nation's airports. The Civil Aeronautics Act, passed by Congress in 1938, established the Civil Aeronautics Authority—the forerunner of today's Federal Aviation Administration (FAA)—to establish safety guidelines, investigate accidents, regulate airline economics, and control air traffic.

The post-World War II economic boom brought a surge in air travel, as well as larger and faster jet aircraft. But the nation's air traffic control system remained unchanged. Upgrades came only after a tragic mid-air collision between two passenger planes over the Grand Canyon in 1956. All 128 passengers and crew aboard both flights perished. Public outrage forced the widespread implementation of radar, a technology greatly improved during the war, into the management of U.S. skies.

Into the 1960s, air traffic controllers augmented radar signal displays with hand-written plastic markers that identified each plane and its altitude. Integrating computers with radar eliminated the need for written markers, as information about each plane automatically displayed on radar screens. This improved radar system, referred to as the Automated Radar Terminal System, finally made its way to metropolitan airports in 1969, when the FAA contracted with Sperry Rand to build control computers and radar scopes.

Large piece of beige metal equipment with round yellow screen (?) at one end and buttons and switches; open panels on top and sides showing complex wiring
This computer-integrated radar scope, used at Detroit Metro Airport from 1970 to 2001, was one of the first units capable of displaying an airplane's identification number and altitude directly on the screen. In this photograph, panels have been removed to reveal the unit’s internal components. / THF154729

This radar scope display panel is the first of those scopes to be produced. It was installed at Detroit Metropolitan Airport in 1970. This unit, and others like it, sat in the tower's radar room. It was used to monitor and control aircraft within 35 miles of the airport. Two people worked the unit in tandem, sitting on either side of the display screen. While this arrangement made maximum use of expensive equipment, it led to inevitable difficulties—users sometimes disagreed on screen contrast settings. With the introduction of single-user LCD displays in the 1980s and 1990s, this unit was downgraded to training use and then retired from service in 2001.

Today, radar itself is facing retirement from air traffic control. Aircraft can relay their positions to each other and the ground without radar through Automatic Dependent Surveillance-Broadcast, which combines GPS technology with high-speed data transfer. Required in most controlled airspace as of January 1, 2020, this new system provides more accurate location information. It also allows closer spacing of aircraft in the skies, increasing capacity and permitting better traffic management.

Though it was outpaced by newer technologies, this computer-integrated radar scope—the first of its kind—survives in the collections of The Henry Ford as evidence of the critical developments that produced the safe and efficient aviation system we rely on today. To discover more aviation stories, visit the Heroes of the Sky exhibition in Henry Ford Museum of American Innovation, or find more on our blog.


Matt Anderson is Curator of Transportation at The Henry Ford.

computers, technology, Michigan, flying, Detroit, by Matt Anderson, airplanes

Imagine attending a choral concert in a century-old church. Instead of monochromatic robes, the choristers emerge in bright, radiant color with bold geometric design. The colors of the robes are a musical key, made visual—yellow for the soprano, orange for the contralto, red for the tenor, and purple for the bass. As the choristers sing and sway, the robes come alive, a modern counterpoint to the traditional church interior.

Imagination aside, this is a scene familiar to those who have watched the Hope College Chapel Choir perform. Originally a creation of Charles and Ray Eames from the 1950s, faithful replicas of the robes continue to be used.

Group of people in colorful robes with black stripes, standing on bleachers in front of a stained glass window
The Hope College Chapel Choir at Dimnent Chapel, circa 2001. Photo Courtesy of the Joint Archives of Holland.

Although husband-and-wife design team Charles and Ray Eames collaborated in nearly everything, it was Ray who showed an early and enduring interest in textiles and fashion design. The daughter of a theatre aficionado and manager, she attended the Bennett School for Girls, a two-year college in Millbrook, New York, earning a degree in Fashion Design in 1933. She completed fashion sketches throughout her life—even creating original paper dolls with custom clothing, complete with the tabs used to affix the clothing onto the doll! She designed a few textiles (one of which—“Crosspatch”—won an honorable mention in a 1946 Museum of Modern Art competition) and dedicated significant energy into the design and creation of her own clothing. The clothes she designed for herself and for Charles are quintessential Eames—functional yet beautiful, with playful delights to be found in the details.

D.J. De Pree, the founder and president of the Herman Miller Furniture Company (which produced Charles and Ray Eames’ furniture), was known for his religious fervor. Further, the company is headquartered in Zeeland, Michigan, a Dutch-American enclave with deep Protestant Christian roots. So, when an employee suggested the creation of a company-sponsored chorus in 1952 (something that might otherwise have been an unusual corporate activity), the De Prees granted it legitimacy, naming it the Herman Miller Mixed Chorus and inviting the chorus to perform at company and company-sponsored events. They soon required choral robes to outfit the company chorus and asked Charles and Ray Eames to design them.

Two white robes with blue bands around the wrists, one with a yellow center panel with black stripes; the other with an orange center panel with black stripes
Herman Miller Mixed Chorus Soprano and Contralto Vocalist Choir Robes, 1953-1960 / THF75585, THF75580

With Ray’s background, it is likely that she was primarily responsible for the design, although as always in collaboration with her husband. The robes are bold and colorful and make a statement, but they are also functional. Their symbolism is evidence of the Eames’ signature research-heavy process and attention to detail. The colors of the robes identify the vocal type (soprano, alto, tenor, bass) and each color’s hue (from light to dark) corresponds with the vocal range (from high to low). The horizontal black lines at the center of each robe reference the musical staff. Charles and Ray may have scoured the extensive Eames Office reference library to ensure symbolic depth and accuracy. Or, perhaps, this came from an ingrained knowledge of music. They enjoyed a variety of musical types, like jazz, folk, and classical, and music was a major component of the films they produced throughout their life, often collaborating with talented composers like Elmer Bernstein. The theatrical backdrop of Ray’s childhood, her interest in textiles and fashion, and the Eames’ interest in music coalesce in these robes.

Two white robes with blue bands around the wrists, one with a red center panel with black stripes; the other with an purple center panel with black stripes
Herman Miller Mixed Chorus Tenor and Bass Vocalist Choir Robes, 1953-1960 / THF75574THF75569

The robes were designed at the Eames Office in Los Angeles, but it is unknown whether the robes were created there and shipped, finished, to Zeeland, or if the patterns and fabric were shipped and the robes were then sewn locally.

By 1960, the Herman Miller Mixed Chorus was disbanded, and Hugh De Pree, son of D.J. De Pree, donated the robes to the Hope College Chapel Choir in the neighboring city of Holland, Michigan, where the family had deep connections. The Hope College Chapel Choir was larger than the Herman Miller Mixed Chorus, so more robes had to be made. Doris Schrotenboer and Millie Grinwis, a mother and daughter team from Zeeland, made the extra. Millie Grinwis recalls that the fabric and patterns were shipped from the Eames Office to her mother’s home, where they were painstakingly put together.

After over 44 years in use, the original robes were retired in 2004. Unwilling, however, to part with the signature design, Hope College commissioned replicas, albeit in a slightly lighter fabric. The original robes were donated to several institutions. At The Henry Ford, these robes add an extra dimension to our design collections, as well as another way to better understand the many talents of Charles and Ray Eames.

Black-and-white photo with TV camera in foreground, pointing at group of people in robes being conducted by another person in a robe
The Hope College Chapel Choir recording at Milwaukee’s WTMJ-TV, circa 1965. / Photo Courtesy of the Joint Archives of Holland.


Katherine White is Associate Curator, Digital Content, at The Henry Ford. She is also an alumnus of Hope College, where she was first delighted by these robes! Thank you to Geoffrey Reynolds at the Joint Archives of Holland for graciously sharing pictures of the Hope College Chapel Choir through the years.

Michigan, women's history, music, Herman Miller, fashion, Eames, design, by Katherine White

Gray tractor with red wheels and attachments along side and front
McCormick-Deering Farmall Tractor, circa 1925 / THF179719


International Harvester introduced the first commercially successful row-crop tractor, the McCormick-Deering Farmall, in 1924. It represented a whole new approach to farming. Today we think of corn, cotton, soybeans, and other crops as being planted and harvested in long rows, but before the 1920s, farmers often planted crops in a grid pattern on smaller fields, which they cultivated using draft animals and a shovel plow.

As tractor usage increased, farmers were able to reduce the amount of land dedicated to housing and feeding draft animals. On average, farmers could re-purpose five acres of land for every horse that was no longer needed. This increase in usable land for farming provided a powerful incentive for farmers to own a tractor.

The McCormick-Deering Farmall was the first tractor to incorporate small, closely spaced front wheels that could travel between rows, and a high rear axle clearance to straddle the plants. It also included a power “take-off” unit to run machinery like the New Idea corn picker. International Harvester, with its Farmall tractor, overtook Ford Motor Company to lead the nation in tractor sales.

We recently completed some conservation work on the McCormick-Deering Farmall "Regular" tractor (52.38.4), which is on display in the Agriculture and the Environment exhibit in Henry Ford Museum of American Innovation. The Farmall “Regular” has gone through a series of restorations and re-interpretations since it came into our collection in 1952.

Tractor on wood floor in exhibit, surrounded by other equipment
Tractor on wood floor in exhibit, surrounded by other equipment
Before (above) conservation and after (below) 2019 conservation work, with the addition of the Farmall Cultivator No. HM-229 add-on kit and set of metal wheels.

In 2003, a team of volunteers, under the direction of a conservator, began the process of returning the tractor to its 1926 appearance. During this process, most of the newer Farmall red restoration paint layer was removed, as were F-20 parts that were not appropriate to the “Regular” model.

Most recently, we made the decision to retain the 1926 appearance and re-introduce the 1930s Farmall Cultivator No. HM-229 add-on kit, a compatible addition farmers could purchase. To do this, the tractor would need to be painted in appropriate colors. Luckily, our Curator of Agriculture and the Environment, Debra A. Reid, tracked down the manufacturer’s elusive colors: International Harvester Gray and Harvester Blue varnish enamel paint.

Harvester Gray was fortunately documented by Mark Stephenson at McCormick-Deering.com. The Harvester Blue was matched from residual paint on a gang beam that was hidden behind an installed cultivator part. The paint was compared with a manufacturer’s paint chart from the Wisconsin Historical Society.

Wooden board with gray-blue and red paint on it
The residual Harvester Blue paint on the Cultivator’s gang beam.

Manual cover with text and image of tractor
To aid in completion of this project, a copy of the manufacturer’s original instruction manual we obtained proved to be an invaluable resource.

Three men wearing blue gloves work on a piece of equipment
Conservation volunteers Doug Beaver, Glen Lysinger, and Jim Yousman put on the cultivator rear track sweep attachment, supported by a high-lift pallet jack.

Small vehicle towing a large gray tractor with red wheels, with a man sitting on the tractor and a couple others walking next to it
Conservation Specialist Andrew Ganem steers the tractor as it is towed by Exhibits Preparator Bernhard Wilson.

Logistics included towing the tractor to its display location at the museum and completing the rest of the assembly onsite in the museum; for ease of movement, the rubber wheels were used to maneuver the tractor into the museum.

Large tire dangling from forklift, being guided by a man kneeling on the ground
Exhibit Preparators Ken Drogowski on the forklift and Jared Wylie on the floor remove one of the 40” x 6” rubber wheels.

Three men stand and kneel around a piece of equipment, holding a red metal tire
The metal wheel gets mounted by Exhibits Preparators Jared Wylie and Neil Reinalda and Conservation Specialist Andrew Ganem.

The rest of the cultivator assembly, which includes gang beams, two rear spring teeth, and ten gang sweeps, was added after the tractor returned to the exhibit area. A set of 25” x 4” front metal wheels and 40” x 6” rear metal wheels replaced the rubber wheels. This process required a methodic approach to safely complete, using forklifts, straps, a watchful eye for concerns and risks, and general tools. Once removed, the set of rubber wheels were returned to collections storage.

This work could not have been completed without the help of staff from the collections management, conservation, curatorial, and exhibits teams at The Henry Ford, as well as our dedicated volunteers Glenn Lysinger, Doug Beaver, Jim Yousman, Larry Wolfe, Harvey Dean, Neil Pike, Deb Luczkowski, Maria Gramer, and Eric Bergman.

Check out the recently conserved tractor and a variety of other agricultural items in the Agriculture exhibit in Henry Ford Museum of American Innovation.


Cuong T. Nguyen is Conservator at The Henry Ford.

farming, Henry Ford Museum, agriculture, by Cuong Nguyen, conservation, collections care, #Behind The Scenes @ The Henry Ford

Pink-tinted photo showing shack, people, cars in a large open expanseOfficial Timing Stand, Bonneville Salt Flats, Utah, 1956 / THF126228


How Fast Will It Go?


Land speed racing is like a moonshot that never leaves Earth, and it answers the never-ending question, “How fast can it go?” In the quest for the prestige of setting a land speed record, highly specialized cars compete in flat, wide-open, isolated settings, without a lot of fanfare or spectators.

In this section of our new racing exhibit, Driven to Win: Racing in America, you will experience the unique setting that is the Bonneville Salt Flats and feel a touchable material that simulates the area’s salt surface. There are many classes—right up to the ultimate “unlimited” world land speed record—so a diverse assortment of cars turns up at each of these events. Drivers race against the clock, one at a time, to an agreed-upon point and back again. Speed is recorded over a “measured mile” within those runs. Usually, it is the average speed from the out-and-back measured miles that establishes the official record. Vehicles used in this type of racing are innovative in developing their conquest of speed.

1951 Beatty Belly Tank Lakester Land Speed Race Car


Tear-shaped race car in two shades of blue
THF90121

Its exterior bodywork was crafted by Tom Beatty from the auxiliary “belly” fuel tank of a World War II fighter plane. Because of their aerodynamic design, these war-surplus tanks were ideal in shape and size to form the body of a land speed racing car, and many were used for that purpose on California’s dry lakes and Utah’s Bonneville Salt Flats. Tom Beatty’s car was fastest in its class at the Bonneville National Speed Trials in 1951, 1952, 1955, 1959, and 1962. At its debut in 1951, a run of 188.284 mph made it the fastest open-wheeled car at the event. In 1955, Beatty set a two-way average of 211.267 mph, and he became the 16th member of Bonneville's 200 mph club. In 1962, using an upgraded driveline, he set what was to be his highest speed record for the car and class—243.438 mph.

1965 Goldenrod Land Speed Race Car


Very long, low golden race car with text on side
THF90969

In November 1965, this sleek car flashed across Utah’s Bonneville Salt Flats to break the world land speed record for wheel-driven cars (as opposed to jet or rocket-powered autos). One key to Goldenrod’s success was its long, slim shape, which minimized wind resistance. The other key was the clever engineering that packed four Chrysler Hemi engines—along with the machinery to drive all four wheels—inside its slim shape. Goldenrod’s record of 409.277 mph stood for more than a quarter century, until 1991. Goldenrod’s builders, Bob and Bill Summers, started their own business building custom transmission and driveline parts and became part of Southern California’s automobile culture. This generated a “hot rod economy” with people who built cars and equipment, promoted races, operated tracks, sold equipment and accessories, and wrote about cars and events.

Additional Artifacts


Straw hat with red and white striped band and many buttons and badges containing text and images
THF152168

Beyond the cars, you can see these artifacts related to land speed racing in Driven to Win.


Dig Deeper


Long, low, race car at gas pumps under banner reading "Official Fueling Station," in open area with mountains in the background
Goldenrod Land Speed Race Car, circa 1965 / THF244527

Learn more about land speed racing with these additional resources from The Henry Ford.

making, race cars, racing, Henry Ford Museum, Driven to Win

Black dog in stone-walled yard with sheep in front of stone cottage
Rover Keeping Watch outside Cotswold Barn, January 1931 / THF623050


When Cotswold Cottage and its surrounding buildings were brought to Greenfield Village, Henry Ford aimed to recreate every detail of one of his and Clara’s favorite regions of England.

Henry purchased the cottage, barn, and a nearby blacksmith shop for Greenfield Village in 1929 and the structures were shipped in 1930. Along with the disassembled structures came English stonemasons, who were tasked with reconstructing each building stone by stone. Henry promoted one of his own employees, Gus Munchow, to take charge of recreating the gardens and grounds around them.

Stone house with green lawn and lush flower garden
Cotswold Cottage / THF1690

The earliest interpretation of Cotswold Cottage intended to present it as a home for English sheepherders. To fully bring this story to life, Henry had a group of sheep imported from the Cotswold region of England to take up residence on the grounds.

White and striped cat lying on top of a wooly sheep in a yard enclosed by a stone wall
Cat Riding a Sheep at Cotswold Cottage, 1932 / THF134679

Plans for the Cotswold setting were nearly perfect, except for one very large missing detail.

When the English stonemasons recalled a black Newfoundland sheep dog roaming the original site, Henry inquired if the dog might consider a move to Michigan. The stonemasons suggested the dog “undoubtedly adored the King” and probably “did not like boats.” Instead, it was decided to find a substitute puppy that could be raised at the cottage to act as sheepherder and guardsman like his English predecessor.

Henry’s secretary began researching the best genetic strains of Newfoundland dogs and located a litter from a lineage of aristocratic, award-winning dogs nearby in Canada.  Rover, deemed their best dog, was sent by train to Dearborn.

Large black dog with slightly curly coat
Rover at Cotswold Cottage, 1932 / THF134670

Rover was trained by Gus Munchow, manager of the gardens and grounds, and was given a home in the Cotswold barn—although some accounts recall he often made himself comfortable inside the cottage.  Weighing more than 130 pounds by his first birthday, Rover quickly grew into a smart and dedicated companion to both the sheep and Gus.

Dedicated in all seasons, day and night, Rover happily attended to chores with Gus.  He delivered feeding buckets to the sheep, carried extra tools, and was responsible for holding the clock on their night rounds. 

Man, horse, dog, and sheep in yard fenced in by stone wall and a stone barn
Rover outside Cotswold Barn with Gus Munchow and Sheep / THF623048

One of several canine citizens of Greenfield Village at the time, Rover’s neighbors included two Dalmatian coach dogs and a Scottish Terrier named McTavish that enjoyed the company of the schoolchildren who learned in the Giddings Family Home next door.

Enthusiastic in his pursuit to keep any of the other Village dogs from approaching the grounds he guarded, Rover had the stature and size to insist upon them keeping their distance—and they happily obeyed.

Large black dog with slightly curly fur
Rover at Cotswold Cottage, 1932 / THF134667

Rover received visits from many distinguished guests, including Princess Takamatsu of Japan and President Herbert Hoover, but his favorite visitors were the Edison Institute schoolchildren. He always offered his paw for a shake, welcomed pats on the head, and even became a popular subject of their art and writing exercises as evidenced in many issues of The Herald, the school’s publication. 


Group of children in coats gathered around seated large black dog
Rover with Edison Institute Schoolchildren, Featured in The Herald, April 5, 1935 / THF623054

Even Henry Ford was an admirer of Rover.  Gus recalled in his oral history: “That dog would only take orders from myself and Mr. Ford.  Mr. Ford used to come through that gate, and the dog would run up to him, and he would play with him for a minute or two.”

Henry realized Rover’s deep bond to Gus when his beloved master fell ill in July 1934.  Gus had suffered from appendicitis and was rushed to Henry Ford Hospital, where he stayed for more than a week. When Henry came to visit Rover, he found him lying in the middle of the road, unwilling to move.  He seemed to be waiting for Gus to return and was refusing to eat.  Realizing Rover must be distressed by Gus’s absence, he requested the dog receive a special bath and be driven in his personal car to the hospital.

The scene of the giant dog visiting the hospital caught the attention of the Detroit News, which wrote a feature article on the visit: “There was a great deal of difficulty in getting the large dog into the hospital, and once inside the door, he had to be dragged along.  But when he approached the room where Gus lay and heard the sound of his master’s voice, he ran joyfully to the bed, jumped upon it, and threw everybody and everything into confusion.” The article was happy to report that following the reunion, Rover quickly regained both his appetite and the 15 pounds he had lost from worry.

Newspaper clipping with photo of man kneeling next to seated large black dog; also contains text caption
Feature photo from a Detroit News article found in Ford Motor Company Clipping Book, Volume 88, April–November 1934 / THF623060

When Gus returned to work, Rover always had one eye on his sheep and one eye on his master, making sure neither wandered too far out of sight.

Rover continued serving Gus and Cotswold Cottage for many years.  He was indeed “a very good and faithful pal” whose spirit will live on forever as part of Greenfield Village.  His grave marker can still be seen today behind the cottage.

Gravestone, lying flat on ground, containing text "Rover, a Newfoundland Dog, Died November 2nd, 1938, 9 Yrs. Old, A Very Good and Faithful Pal"
Rover’s grave marker, located behind Cotswold Cottage / Photo by Lauren Brady


Lauren Brady is Reference Archivist at The Henry Ford.

farm animals, Henry Ford, Greenfield Village history, Greenfield Village buildings, Greenfield Village, by Lauren Brady

Colorful image of woman raking hay in a field, with other people, horses, and wagons nearby

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.

Wooden box, strips of translucent images, and small metal and glass machine
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.

Illustration of a crowd of people around a grassy area where baseball is being played
"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


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.

Well-dressed man and woman walk toward an open carriage door, with other people and a dog nearby
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.

Man in suit with right arm upraised, in front of man sitting at desk on dais, with additional people at tables behind them
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.

Black-and-white portrait of man in suit with white hair, beard, and mustache; cursive text on one side
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.

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