19th Century Handspun Apron

This is a story about historical research, and how sometimes you just get lucky.

When I first started volunteering at the Shook – Smathers House I noticed there were three pieces of homespun textiles in the house. Among them was the apron above. None of the other volunteers knew the history of it.

This is not surprising due to the nature of volunteerism. Volunteers come and go for various reasons. Probably the biggest reason is many volunteers are older, and so many are lost due to advancing age and the many issues associated with it. The collection at the Shook – Smathers is only about twenty years old, and yet there are very few volunteers who have been there since the beginning.

This shows us the extreme value of recordkeeping. At first it appeared to me that there were no collections records kept at all. But after weeks of looking through old files, the historical society’s newsletter, and piles of stuff in boxes, I realized that many records were present. They just needed some organization.

Still, I was not able to discover the origin of the homespun textiles. What I did know was that there had been at one time a trunk of old textiles stored in the attic. The trunk was referenced in a 1931 newspaper article we found in an old scrapbook given to the museum. Part of the article was a photograph of Ruth, the teenage daughter of the owner of the house, wearing some homespun garments that had been owned by her great-great grandmother, Mary Agner Smathers. According to the article the clothing had been made by Mary herself.

The quality of the photo was what one might expect from a ninety-three year old newspaper clipping. But it is clear enough to see that young Ruth is wearing an apron very similar to the one in the museum’s collection. Still, that’s not enough proof for us to say the apron was original to the house, especially since the house contained several trunks, but no textiles.

Then a longtime docent suggested that we ask Ruth’s daughter, who is still alive and has a great memory. A phone call later we had the answer. The apron and two other pieces had come from the trunk. After the vacant house had been broken into, Ruth, then elderly and living in another city, and her children took the family heirlooms from the house for safekeeping. They had returned some of the items in 2003 after the house was restored and made into the museum.

But what happened to to the other textiles? Part of the answer is that they were given away, probably by Ruth’s mother who lived in the house until her death in 1981. The North Carolina Museum of History has a bonnet made and worn by Mary Agner Smathers. It was donated in 1956 by a cousin of the family. Our guess is that she was given the bonnet by Ruth’s mother.

On a different note, I was able to track down the Bible Ruth is holding. Printed in German, it dates to 1732 and was used by Mary Agner Smathers, who never learned to read English. The Bible was given to a cousin, and it now resides with her son.

Studying this apron has been a real eyeopener. Made of linen and dyed with indigo and madder, the amount of work that went into it was staggering. It’s completely made by hand from start to finish, with the tiniest precise stitches imaginable. By the time Mary Agner moved into the Shook – Smathers House to live with a son, she was already elderly. The apron probably predates her time there, which was in the 1860s. By that time factory made textiles were becoming available, and Mary no longer had to work so hard for her clothing.

At a recent meeting of the local historic society, I was able to present the story of Mary Agner Smathers’ apron, a story that is now fully documented and preserved for future historians.

1950s Coil Handbag

Last fall I found this handbag at a bargain price in an antique mall, so of course I had to buy it. I had always read that this type bag was made in the 1940s from surplus telephone cords, but like so many internet stories, this turns out not to be true.

Yes, I know they do look like phone cords, but thanks to a great article at The Vintage Purse Gallery, I know that these coiled plastic handbags have nothing at all to do with telephone cords. Coiled phone cords were developed in the 1930s, but did not come into common use until the 1950s. The technology for the coiled handbag was developed in the 1940s and was patented in 1946. I don’t know when the first coiled plastic bags were made, but a search on newspaperarchive,com showed they were most advertised in 1954.

So, why are these called “phone cord bags”? I really can’t say, but my experience with how information spreads on the internet might provide a clue. One person probably referred to this type bag as being made from phone cords, the “information” was repeated, and next thing we know the phone cord bag is invented.

This has happened so much in the vintage fashion world that I’ve pretty much stopped complaining about it. I’ve even gotten used to late 1950s and early 60s cotton swimsuits being called “rompers”.

These bags are really popular with the vintage wearing crowd, and it’s easy to see why. They sure do pack a lot of color into a small space.

Sea-crets by Cole of California

This brochure for the Cole of California saleswoman is not dated, but the styles are about 1956. I’m sure there are people out there who will recognize one of the styles and who can tell me the exact year. Or maybe I’ll get ambitious and look through my mid 1950s fashion magazines for the answer.

“Picture the lady on the beach. Recognize the lady’s figure.” It’s interesting that women’s figures are laid out as problems to be solved. Let’s hope that the saleswomen were wise enough to suggest styles without pointing out the problems to the customer. No wonder so many women have fitting room anxiety.

“Sales are made in the fitting room, not over the counter.” I’d never thought of this, but it is absolutely true. And not stated, but also true is that sales are lost in the fitting room as well.

Women get so many mixed messages when it comes to what one can or can’t wear. Or should or shouldn’t. I appreciate the feminism behind the “wear anything you want” message, but most of us have seen ourselves in the mirror enough to know that some clothes are going to make us happy, and others simply will not work. It really has more to do with our own sense of what works on our bodies, and what makes us feel silly or dumpy or just plain sad. I try to think that I make my own clothing rules, but the fact is, the rule that says ruffles look silly on a short woman rings very true.

By the 1950s swimsuit makers had figured out that it’s necessary to accessorize that swimsuit. I’m always happy to find matching pieces for the swimsuits in my collection. I’m wishing more saleswomen had taken the “sell a matching piece” advice more seriously.

South Carolina Mills, Fall & Winter 1948

“The only mail order company selling cottons exclusively.”

Today it would be hard to imagine a company that made products made only of cotton, or of any natural fiber. And in spite of the company’s name, there was not an actual South Carolina Mill. Instead, the company sold products from various cotton mills in South Carolina and from other Southeastern states as well.

Some of the products are listed with a brand name label, and others are “…made exclusively for South Carolina Mills.” What all the products had in common was the 100% cotton content; all made in the southern US.

The blankets in the top photo certainly look to be the products of Beacon Blankets, which were made in Swannanoa, North Carolina.

All these shirts and sweaters for boys have labels, including a Hanes label in the striped tee on the right. Hanes was located in Winston-Salem, North Carolina.

Most of the home decor goods in the catalog were made by Startex, which was located very close to Spartanburg, where the catalog company was located.

The only maker listed for any of these great socks was Spartan Mills, located in Spartanburg. I’m betting many of these were made in North Carolina as well.

The denim used for the jeans in the catalog was made by Erwin Mill, which was located in Durham. North Carolina. Durham is in the middle piedmont, where so much of the country’s denim was produced. Probably the most famous denim mill was Cone, which was located in Greensboro.

And what would a cotton catalog be without yard goods? The range of fabric was wide; everything from corduroy to taffeta to flannelette to chambray.

Glen of Michigan Safari Pants, 1965

I spotted these pants on Instagram recently, and to be honest, if not for the hangtag, I’d have not given these a second look. The D-ring closure is nice, but these are pretty generic slacks. But the hangtag gave me something to go on, so I turned to a newspaper archive search to see if I could learn more.

And there the pants were, in a 1965 newspaper advertisement. Deciding to purchase these for my collection was easy.

I’ve always loved the clothing Bill Atkinson designed for Glen of Michigan. During the 1960s he designed around themes, like this safari one. Best of all, the company released catalogs built around the theme, like this one in my archive. I’m betting there was one for this collection as well.

Here’s a better look at the hangtag that opened my pocketbook.

Shouldn’t that be faze, instead of phase?

The label is the Glen of Michigan one usually found in their 1960s garments. Without the hangtag, it would have been hard to find information about this collection, though the style places the pants in the middle of the1960s. Adding to the dating helps are the nylon zipper and its placement in the front. Just a short time earlier the zipper would have been in the side, or even in the back.

Bill Atkinson continued this theme into fall 1965 with more outdoorsy separates in heavier fabrics. It’s hard to imagine that in 2024 there would be an ad for clothing with a young woman carrying a hunting rifle. And the connotations of colonialism connected to the pith helmet would probably make that a no-no as well.

Currently Reading: Bes-Ben: Chicago’s Mad Hatter by Elizabeth Jachimowicz

One of the most asked questions I got while teaching was, “How do I get my kid to read?” My response was, “How much do the adults in your house read for pleasure?” I usually got a stammered response about how busy they were and other excuses. Truth is, kids follow the examples set by the important adults in their lives. Both of my parents were readers, especially my mom, and they ended up with all four of their kids being readers as well. And nobody was as busy as my mother.

Every year I try to take the weeks before and after Christmas to just sit and read for enjoyment. I’m pretty much a nonfiction fan, with an emphasis on history and material culture. I was so delighted to get this book, Bes-Ben: The Mad Hatter of Chicago just in time for my yearly read-a-thon. It was a gift from friends Jonathan and Kenn at the Fashion History Museum.

Bes-Ben was the millinery shop of Benjamin Green-field and his sister Bessie Friedlander. Their mother had been a milliner, and over time all her children were involved in the hat business. Bes-Ben opened in 1919. Eventually Bessie moved on to other pursuits, but Ben maintained Bes-Ben until 1978.

Green-Field was no ordinary hat maker. Almost from the beginning his creations were full of whimsey and humor. They were not for the shy woman, as you’ll see from the photographs of his work.

Dogs were a common motif at Bes-Ben. He often designed hats for a specific client in order to match her canine companion.

Especially in the 1940s, little figures were constructed from leather. A hat might be decorated with six or seven of these little creatures. According to records from the business, Scotty dogs were a popular choice. I now know that I need a Bes-Ben Scotty hat.

Other animals were used as well, including these sweet little skunks. Green-Field was said to be influenced by works from the Disney Studios, and this hat is an homage to the skunk Flower in Bambi.

This hat from circa 1961 features little plastic records. I can remember these. Seems like they came from gumball machines. My cousin Nancy had a charm bracelet made from them.

What could be better than a grasshopper sitting atop a field of flowers?

Bes-Ben also made hats covered with printed silk, like this map one, and the playing cards shown on the cover of the book. As a bonus, these hats came with a matching scarf.

Bees and insects of all kinds were popular themes. The bees might be made from chenille, like these, or could be machine embroidered patches. In later years, Bes-Ben relied on manufactured metal forms.

Ms. Jachimowicz was the perfect author for a book on Bes-Ben. She was the curator of costumes at the Chicago History Museum, and in 1976 the museum decided to do an exhibition of Bes-Ben hats. In her words, “Ben was only too delighted to help.” In the following years he donated his business records and much material to the Chicago History Museum. As a result, there is a rich Bes-Ben archive.

If you love hats, I can’t recommend this book enough.

1962 Berea College Handwoven Bag

One of the nicest things about (barely) maintaining this online journal is that people are able to find me through the miracle of Google. I recently received an email from Susan, who was looking for information about the Berea College Student Industries program. She found me through a post from February.

Susan had inherited items from her grandparents, who loved to travel. They lived in Ohio, and would have traveled on the Dixie Highway, passing through Berea on their way south. On one trip her grandmother purchased this bag. And as luck would have it, even the catalog dated 1962-1963, picturing this bag was saved.

The catalog lists it as a shopping bag, and it is large enough to use for small items. I love that there were two styles of matching hats.

I wasn’t familiar with the fiber chromspun, but the still attached paper tag tells me it was a type of acetate. There were all sorts of fancy synthetics coming out of the chemical companies like DuPont and Eastman in the1950s and 60s.

It’s a great addition to my collection as it is not only a great example of the way the handicrafts movement of the early twentieth century survived into the 1960s and beyond, it is a perfect casual bag that fits in well with the rest of my collection. So a big thank you to Susan is in order!

Berea students not only were weavers and sewers, some were also woodworkers. According to the catalog, their Skittle game was a big seller, and very popular. I’m including this only because of the advertising postcard the college published, which was an out-take of the catalog photo, above.

So much better that the one used in the catalog, don’t you think?