The Palimpsest

Swaim, Ginalie

‘Clothe Yourself in Fine Apparel’
Mesquakie Costume in Word, Image, and Artifact
THE COSTUMES of the four women 
on the right immediately tell us some­
thing about who they are: women of 
Native American and European-Ameri- 
can descent. We might guess that their 
clothes are special to them — carefully 
chosen for a formal studio portrait.
In all societies, costume is a public 
and private expression of one’s self. Cos­
tume sends messages about one’s stage 
and rank in life and about individual and 
cultural aesthetics. Costume can be 
read as a code. Consider the cultural 
messages in the red “power necktie of 
the early 1990s, of boys knee breeches 
in turn-of-the-centurv America, of bell- 
bottoms and long hair of the Sixties, of 
w hite w edding  d resses and black 
mourning clothes. Consider also the 
more personal or individual meaning in 
one’s adornment: lodge pins, favorite 
colors that impart self-confidence, a 
piece of jewelry with special meaning.
The following presentation was in­
spired by a fascinating article in the 
upcoming Summer issue of The Annals 
of Iowa: “Clothed in Blessing: Meaning 
in Mesquakie Costume by art historian 
Ruth B. Phillips. Calling dress “the 
most personal of art forms, Phillips 
finds in Mesquakie costume “highly 
specific statements about the accumu­
lated interior experience [and] psycho­
logical state of the wearer. Appreciat­
ing such private meanings “permits us 
to understand how donning a particular 
kind of costume could affect the wearer 
and selected beholders.
Phillips wisely cautions us that cos­
tume is greater than the sum of its parts.
Too often we see only isolated pieces of 
historical costum es in static photo ­
graphs or exhibits. Absent is the indi­
vidual and the occasion, the qualities of 
movement and sound. Missing are the 
temporal elements of face paint and hair 
arrangement. Beyond most of us is com­
prehension of wholistic Native Ameri­
can cultures and their all-pervasive 
sense of the sacred.
Within these limits, the Palimpsest 
brings together on the following pages 
the voices, faces, and historic costume of 
the Mesquakie. Combined they begin 
to sketch the context from which we 
might glean insights into Mesquakie 
culture. Our goals are to find the com­
mon ground, respect the differences, 
and accept an individual’s or a culture’s 
right to keep certain meanings private. 
Finallv, we consider some of the limits 
in using the primary sources of docu­
ment, artifact, and image.
We direct interested readers to Phil­
lips’s sensitive and thoughtful article in 
the summer Annals of Iowa and also to
Gavlord Torrence’s excellent essav in✓  /
Art of the Red Earth People: The Mes­
quakie of Iowa (see sources in box on 
page 82). We also invite the reader to 
consider one’s own costume. W hat clues 
speak to others in your culture? What 
personal and private meanings do you 
incorporate into your appearance? And 
how might future historians interpret 
that costume? “Clothe vourself in finej
apparel, one Mesquakie account reads. 
Hereby lies an expression of one’s life 
and values.
— The Editor
A rtifact photography by C huck Greiner
Left: Silk appliqué ribbon panel for blanket or skirt (6" x 35"). Right: Studio portrait by 
H. C. Eberhart, Tama, Iowa. All artifacts are from the State Historical Society of Iowa 
Museum (Des Moines). Although most were probably made between 1880 and 1915, and 
collected from 1915 to the mid-1930s, they represent a continuity of traditional Mesquakie
designs and materials.

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Expressions of Skill
You may now try to sew bead and 
appliqué ribbon work. If you know how 
to sew you are to make things to wear 
when you dance. If it is known that you 
can already sew, (people) will hire you. 
Not merely that. You will be paid. You 
will be benefited by knowing how to 
sew / my mother told me. Then indeed 
I began to practice sewing. It took me a 
long time to sew well. It (must have) 
taken me two years to sew well. From 
then I was always making something.
T was sixteen years old when we 
were making mats in the summer. In 
the winter we were making sacks and 
yarn belts, (and) we were sewing appli­
qué ribbon work and bead work. ’
“Autobiography of a Fox Indian Woman
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Mesquakie women demonstrated their skill in bead- 
work, appliqué, and other textile work in garments made 
and worn for special occasions, shown here. Right: four 
Mesquakie young women, circa 1890. Opposite (clock­
wise from upper left): Beaded wool hair binder with 
cotton edging and loom-headed pendants. Blue cotton 
blouse with ribbon trim and German silver brooches 
(alloy of copper, zinc, and nickel) on yoke and back. 
I ubular shell necklace. Wool sash w ith loom-headed 
otter tail pattern, an ancient Great Lakes motif. Front- 
seam legging with stylized floral, beaded design. Beaded 
moccasin cuffs. Blanket bordered with silk and orna­
mented with beads, made by Ada Poweshiek.
SUMMER 1991 73
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“‘W ell, I have surely found a m an/ I 
thought. ‘If this (man) were to cast me 
off to-day, I should tag after him any­
how / I thought. When he went to any 
place for a long time, I yearned for him. 
And I thought, 'He has made me happy 
by treating me well. Then I began to 
make things for him, his finery, his moc­
casins, his leggings, his shirt, his gar­
ters, his cross-belt. After I had made 
finery of every kind for him, (I said), 
T hese are what I have made for vou as
you have made me happy as long as I 
have lived with you, (and) because you 
have never m ade me angry in any
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"Autobiography of a Fox Indian Woman
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Top: Women made wool yarn sashes, to he worn by men 
and women for ceremonial occasions, either helted at 
the waist or, for men, sometimes wrapped around the 
head or over the shoulder. Jagged and zigzag patterns 
symbolize transmission of spiritual powers. The shortest 
sash, ornamented with turtle bones, was made by Mrs. 
John Young Bear. These three range from 2Vs" to 7" 
wide. Below: Detail from wool side-seam leggings, 
trimmed with ribbon and heads, made hv Mrs. Harry 
Wasekuk for son-in-law John Young Bear. Panels of silk 
ribbon appliqué were often sewn onto dark backgrounds 
for dramatic effect. Left: John Painter and family 
(Duren Ward Collection, SHSI-Iowa City).
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76 THE PALIMPSEST
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Symbols of Status
A man s rank as a warrior was conveyed through certain 
aspects of dress, such as bearclaw necklaces or 
tomahawks (akin to dress swords worn by European- 
American military officers). Above: Sauk and Nlesquakie 
leaders are depicted carrying such symbols here by art­
ist Karl Bodmer on April 10, 1833 and are described 
below by Prince Maximilian zu Wied on their expedition 
up the Missouri River. Left: Mid-19th century pipe 
tomahaw k, 21 long, brass head with stamped design and 
hands of pewter or alloy. The hardwood handle was 
decorated by applying a heated file. Several companies 
made pipe tomahawks, in varying qualities, specifically 
for trade since the mid- 18th century. Another symbol of 
a Nlesquakie man’s stature is the roach, described by 
Maximilian here. (See also artifact photo, page 78).
T h e Saukies and Foxes had shaved 
their hair ofi the whole head except a 
small tuft behind, the greater part of 
which was cut short, like a brush, and
NATIONAL ANTHROPOLOGICAL ARCHIVES. SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
which terminated in a thin braid, to 
which was fastened the chief ornament 
of the head, the deer’s tail, which is a 
tuft of hair from the tail of the Virginian 
stag, white, with some black hair, the 
white part being dyed red with ver­
milion. It is fastened in an ingenious 
manner, with some strings and pegs of 
wood, to the tuft of hair at the back of 
the head; and in the middle of it, con­
cealed between the hair, is a small piece 
of carved wood, to which a small bone 
box is affixed, into which a large eagle’s 
feather is fastened, projecting horizon­
tally behind; this feather is often dved  ̂ / *
with vermilion, and is the characteristic 
distinction of a brave warrior.”
Prince Maximilian zu Wied (1833)
The [Saukie and Fox] men, who were 
between thirty and forty in number, 
never appeared w ithout their arms; 
they carried tomahawks, or else the 
common Indian club, which has, at the 
upper end, a steel plate, sharp on both 
edges, and pointed. We did not see any 
bows and arrows among these Indians, 
because they had not come out on a 
warlike expedition, but on a festal visit; 
many of them had a kind of lance, made 
of a long sword blade, fastened to a pole, 
which was covered with red cloth, and 
ornamented with many black raven’s or 
eagle’s feathers, hanging down either in 
a long row, or in long bunches. ”
Prince Maximilian zu Wied (1833)
SUMMER 1991 77
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Costume elements for dancing imparted kinetic qualities. Clockwise from top: Roach, made of deer hair dyed with 
vermilion (further described on pages 76-77). Hair ornament, leather thongs with glass beads and brass thimbles (to be 
tied to back of scalp lock). Clamshell medallion or gorget necklace (the strings of blue and Venetian beads, ending in 
brass thimbles and ribbons, were tied behind the neck and trailed down the back). Pair of red and green beaded garters, 
in colors denoting the two original Nlesquakie clans, Bear and Fox. Sash, with beaded streamers.
THE PALIMPSEST
Kinetics of Costume
“ You m u st d a n ce  v ig o r o u s ly /  I 
thought. That is why I made [these gar­
ments] for y o u /
Autobiography of a Fox Indian Woman
“Not only the ritual, but the aesthetic of 
costume depends on the animation, 
rhythmic movement, and music of the 
dance. The choices made by the makers 
of costume for particular textures, col­
ors, and decorative elem ents are deter­
mined not only by their visual qualities 
but also by their kinetic and auditoryI J m' v ; • J
qualities. One has to hear the tinklers 
on moccasins as well as see them, to see 
fringes and feathers sway and nod, and 
silver, beads, and ribbon shimmer in 
shifting light and shadow /
Ruth B. Phillips 
“Clothed in Blessing’
Dancers at the 1948 powwow at the Mesquakie Settle­
ment near Tama, Iowa. Left, Eagle Dance. Above, Rab­
bit Dance. Below, Pipe Dance. Opposite, another scene. 
(Killy Collection, SHSI-Iowa City.)
“The private m eanings o f costum es are 
rarely recorded, but they are, in every  
culture, a part of the totality of meaning that 
is being exp ressed /’
Ruth B. Phillips, ‘Clothed in Blessing”
Right: Charm bag, AVi x 6". Charm bags carried amulets, 
charms, and medicines and often bore designs of spiritual 
guardians. The underwater panther (on the left bandolier 
strap and detail) is a mythic spirit often depicted by Great 
Lakes tribes and capable of great destruction and great bless­
ings. The design of four parallelograms (right strap) is a classic 
Mesquakie pattern.
Below: Beaded hair binder (center, 12Vfc"), and headed band 
and pendants. Mesquakie women wore their long hair parted 
in the middle and bound in the back with ribbons or binders. 
The rectangular binder was wrapped around the hair and held 
with a short, beaded hand. From this hung long pendants 
almost to the ground. “The hair binder and pendant were 
regarded as talismans,’ notes art historian Gaylord Torrence. 
“The pendant was also believed to be transfused with the 
woman's soul. It was regarded as her most important posses­
sion, equal to all other sacred objects she might possess.”
80 THE PALIMPSEST
Mesquakie warriors Kishkekosh (above) 
and Nesouaquoit (1837 portraits by 
Charles Bird King). Face and body 
painting conveyed various meanings, 
according to art historian Gaylord Tor­
rence: “Although some designs may have 
been purely decorative, most were sym­
bolic of religious society or clan associa­
tion, military achievement, or visionary 
experiences. Changes in one s life, such 
as marriage and mourning, were also 
signified by costume, as in the three 
autobiographical passages here.
Black . . . was worn in the face of 
danger or the threat of death, and it 
was associated with the absence of 
o r n a m e n t  a n d  t h e  p o o r e s t  
clo th in g . . . . The M esquakie thus 
hum bled th em selves in encounters  
with the spirit world in order to induce 
the spiritual beings to pity them and to 
bestow their blessings.”
Ruth B. Phillips, "Clothed in Blessing
[For a marriage]: ‘‘Then he gave me his 
horse, and the clothing which he used at 
dances, his finerv. . . .  I arrived where 
we lived clad in finery.”
‘‘[ Later my husband] became sicker and 
sicker. I cried in vain, as I felt so badly 
about him. And he died. Soon it was 
terrible for me. I undid my hair and 
loosened it. For several nights I could 
not sleep as I was sorrowful. . . . And 
then the female relatives of my dead 
husband came to comb my hair. And 
they brought other garments for me to 
wear. I wore black clothing.
[After an adoption feast, in which a new 
person fills the place of one who has 
died]: “Then they began to clothe me in 
fresh clothes, and my hair was combed 
and my face was washed. And then I was 
told, \  . . You may begin to wear fin­
ery. You may go and do whatever you 
please. If you are desirous of marrying 
anyone, you may marry h i m . ”
"Autobiography of a Fox Indian Woman”
SUMMER 1991 81
HISTORIANS rely upon primary 
sources, or first-hand accounts of 
historical events, to impart the 
facts and flavor of our past. 
Sources vary in value, however, 
and in weighing the potential con­
tribution of a source, one must 
consider many factors. Especially 
when investigating the juncture of 
two cultures, a researcher must 
remain aware of the cultural prej­
udices of the speaker. Ruth R. 
Phillips makes this point in 
"Clothed in Rlessing: Meaning in 
Mesquakie Costume’ (Annals of 
Iowa, Summer 1991): ‘Western 
observers have been struck by the 
strangeness and splendor of the 
costumes, and by the high level of 
craftsmanship employed by their 
creators, but writers of a less sub­
tle turn of mind have commonly 
used words such as gaudy, gro­
tesque, or barbaric to characterize
elements of costume thev did not0
understand and an aesthetic they 
could not appreciate.
European-American accounts 
of encounters with Native Ameri­
cans are often laced with this eth- 
nocentrism. In the 1830s, trader’s 
wife Caroline Phelps wrote: “The 
Indians got up and then the 
squaws all commenced danc­
ing around and around the 
fires. . . . Their faces were differ­
ently painted, some red with little 
black bands marked on each side 
of their mouth, and some with one 
eye black and the other white, and 
grass enough about their necks 
and their legs to feed a mule all 
winter, they went round & twist­
ing and jumping and screaming 
and singing as loud as they could 
holler, and clapping their hands 
upon their mouths to make the 
sound more awful, they appeared 
more savage in their amusement 
than any other time.’ Phelps dis­
regards the values and aesthetics 
outside her own culture that
govern the native dancers’ dress, 
sounds, and actions.
Likewise, in 1837 a Boston jour­
nalist described a “w7ar dance by 
tribal chiefs: “Their war exercises 
were not very striking. One beat a 
drum, to which they hummedy
monotonously, and jumped about 
grotesquely. Did the reporter 
expect to be entertained by rituals 
meaningful to the participants?
Language can also affect the 
value of a primary source. “The 
Autobiography of a Fox Indian 
Woman is a detailed account of a 
Mesquakie woman’s life on the 
tribal settlement near Tama, 
Iowa, published by ethnographer 
Truman Michelson in 1918. As 
G retchen M. B ataille and 
Kathleen Mullen Sands comment 
in American Indian Women: Tell­
ing Their Lives (1984), the inter­
view7 was "told in Mesquakie to 
Harrv Lincoln, corrected by his 
wife, Dalottiwa, translated by 
Horace Poweshiek and finally 
edited and published two years 
later. The lavers of translation andy
interpretation, and the research­
er’s interests, increase the dan­
gers of serious omissions or mis­
interpretation in such sources.
Keokuk s wife (artist: George Catlin).
Regarding photography and . 
artwork, might subtle errors ! 
be introduced w7hen the image- 
maker works out of context? Pro­
lific frontier artist George Catlin I 
captured the personality of his 
subjects but sometimes confused I 
important details of specific tribal 
costumes; perhaps he sketched in 
details later. Artist Charles Bird 
King painted visiting tribal chiefs / 
in Washington, D.C.; were their 
costumes chosen by the subjects i
or by the artist? Many of the Mes-
0  0
quakie photographs collected by 
Iowa minister Duren Ward in 
1905 were studio portraits; Mes­
quakie in native dress are seated i 
on ornate Victorian wicker chairs.
To be useful, artifacts also re­
quire context: origin, maker, and 
function, at the least. The ten­
dency to view native traditions as
static mav obscure evidence of
0
change and contact between other 
tribes and cultures — especially if 
artifacts grouped in an exhibit or 
photograph represent different 
time periods or tribes. Artifacts 
require sufficient documentation 
to be interpreted correctly. J
When using primary sources, I 
be alert to the biases, context, and 
personal or cultural viewpoints 1 
inherent in anything recorded or I 
collected by human beings. With I 
these cautions in place, then relish I 
the immediacy and texture that I 
primary sources and materials I 
lend to history. I
— The Editor j
NOTE ON SOURCES I
The Annals o f Iowa summer issue, fea- I 
hiring Ruth B. Phillips’s article, can I 
he purchased from SHSI, 402 Iowa ■  
A venue, Iowa C itv , Iowa 52240 I
(319-335-3916). SHSI staff Jerom e I
Thompson, Marvin Bergman, and I
Christie Dailey helped shape this photo M 
essay. Gaylord Torrence’s sensitive and I
thorough essay in Art o f the Red Earth I  
People: The \1esquahie o f Iowa (U of I I  
Museum of Art, 1989) was invaluable. I  
Barbara A. Hail’s Hau, Kola' (Brown I
University, 1983) discusses Catlin and I
other frontier artists. For “The Auto- I
biography of a Fox Indian Woman,” see I
Truman Michelson, Fortieth Annual I
Revort of the Bureau o f American Eth- I
nology (1925). I
82 THE PALIMPSEST


English

Clothe Yourself in Fine Apparel': Mesquakie Costume in Word, Image, and Artifact

Robinson, Lauren Pille

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Memorial Day in the 1920s
by Lauren Pille Robinson
R IVERSIDE, Iowa, observed Memorial 
Day in the 1920s in the manner of most 
of America. The purpose of Decoration 
Day, as it was then called, was to honor the 
nation’s veterans and war dead by decorating 
graves and holding memorial services. This 
excerpt from an oral history project focuses on 
this national holiday and its social customs on a 
local level — through the words of three 
Riverside citizens and the photographs of local 
photographer William Crozier. A concluding 
essay considers the role photographs play in 
interviews, and other aspects of oral history.
Delbert Flynn: “[Memorial Day] used to he 
really the deal. They’d have the band and the 
color guard and about forty o f ’em marching 
— this was right after the war. And the Civil 
War vets — I remember when there was five 
of em — they’d have to have them in a car in 
the parade. ’’ (/)tu>
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SUMMER 1991 83
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Marie Havel: “Everybody took part. I can 
remember they all lined up. . . . All the little 
schoolchildren were in the parade, the Civil 
War veterans — and there were a lot of them 
— a good many of them had beards . . . old, 
old men. And the hand, and the Relief 
Corps, and it always came out in force. And 
they would start way downtown and go up 
the hill and I can remember walking clear up 
to the cemeterv.
Grace Dautremont: “It was reallv a full dav.✓  r
And it was hot. It seems like it was alwavs a
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hot, burning hot afternoon.
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Grace: “Memorial Day wasn’t one of those*
big picnic-eating clays. It wasn’t a fun clay. It 
was just for remembering the soldiers. We 
didn’t, I think, the week ahead, say ‘Oh, 
goody, it’s gonna be Memorial Day.’ But 
when the time came, we went.
Marie: “[W e cl have] spirea and early 
peonies, and . . . iris. Lots of flowers, 
ordinarily. In those days, it seemed like to 
me, we never had a problem with flowers. I 
think the climate’s changed. Certainly, it’s 
uncertain. I can’t ever remember that we
didn’t have flowers on Memorial Dav. We/
had to have them. . . . Everybody was
* w
dressed in their best clothes . . . but I don’t 
remember ever wearing a hat. I always had a 
big hair ribbon on, maybe there was no room 
for a hat. ”
Grace: “I guess each one of us had a 
bouquet. . . . If you didn’t have some 
[flowers at home], you’d go to the neighbors’. 
And then, also, you could always get 
wildflowers. Violets would be out — that 
kind of thing.
SUMMER 1991
Delbert: 'Then they’d have a little ceremony 
up to the cemetery, there by the grave of the 
unknown soldier.”
Grace: I guess there’d be leaders — there’d 
be some older [schoolgirls] picked out for 
that. And they would have a couple kids 
going along [with each leader]. The leader 
would have their grave picked out for them. 
And then we d go and put our flowers on the 
grave. That’s what Memorial Day was created 
for, to commemorate the soldiers who died.”
Delbert: “Everybody went to an observance
 ̂ •
somewhere. . . . On Memorial Dav, like
✓ 7
everything stopped. They might have gone to 
something in the morning and gone back to 
[work in] the field in the afternoon, but I 
don’t think they’d think about just skipping it 
altogether. It seems like it generates less and 
less interest every year. Now, people got cars 
and money and more fun things to do — or
they think they have anvwavs.”/  /  0 *
86 THE PALIMPSEST
SIMMER 1991
Delbert: There d be a lot of visiting goin 
on. You’d see some of your relations you 
hadn’t seen for a month or two. Like my aunt 
and uncle in Iowa City, they’d come down 
here. They had family buried here, you 
know. They came from here.
Marie: It was such a ritual that I remember 
the year before my mother died, she said,✓  ✓  7 7
You know, this is the last year fm  going to 
be able to do this.’ She wasn’t alive the next 
Memorial Day.”
M arie: “Boy! All the relations came for✓
M emorial Day and they brought picnics. It 
was family reunion day. And one of the* j
things I was brought up to do was to make a 
pilgrimage through the cemetery and 
everybody that was a relative — you went by 
their grave and your mother told you about 
them and you dropped a flower on their 
grave. And, my goodness, I can remember 
that. That’s how we got informed about our 
families and their backgrounds. We did this 
every year.”


Memorial Day in the 1920s

Vollertsen, Edward W

My Dear Wife': A Soldier's Letters

Lufkin, Jack

16 THE PALIMPSEST
I
Henry Tanner and 
Booker T. Washington
The Iowa Story Behind the Portrait
by Jack Lufkin
A
 SMALL but active group of black
women in Iowa brought about the 
creation of a portrait of a preeminent 
black leader by a preeminent black 
painter of the same generation. The painting, 
owned by the State Historical Society of Iowa, 
is a portrait of Booker Taliaferro Washington 
(1856-1915) by noted black artist Henry 
Ossawa Tanner (1859-1937).
Washington is perhaps best known for his 
success in developing Tuskegee Normal and 
Industrial Institute in Alabama into a flourish­
ing and nationally prominent educational 
institution for blacks. There, the artist s sister, 
Hallie Tanner Dillon, was the campus physi­
cian. Washington visited Tanner in Paris in 
1899 while vacationing in Europe and admired 
the painter s success. “My acquaintance with 
Mr. Tanner, he wrote in his popular auto­
biography, Up From Slavery, “reenforced in 
my mind the truth which I am constantly trying
Left: Portrait of Booker T. Washington, by Henry 
Ossawa Tanner. Painted in 1917 for the Iowa Federation 
of Colored Women’s Club, the portrait measures 31%" 
X 25Vh". The oil painting is now on loan from the 
Museum Bureau, State Historical Society of Iowa to the 
Philadelphia Museum of Art for an exhibit on Tanner.
to impress upon our students at Tuskegee — 
and on our people throughout the country . . . 
any man, regardless of colour, will be recog­
nized and rewarded just in proportion as he 
learns to do something well — learns to do it 
better than someone else.”
This message was one that Washington 
espoused on his national speaking tours. 
Addressing various public groups and chautau- 
quas, he championed self-help and accom­
modation, emphasizing economic opportunity 
and education for blacks over civil rights 
advocacy. Washington brought this message to 
Iowa as well. In 1904 he visited Buxton, Iowa, 
where many black miners lived and worked. In 
early March 1911, Washington again came to 
Iowa. Sponsored by the Northwest Teachers 
Association in Sioux City, he addressed a 
crowd of twenty-five hundred on the value of 
black economic efforts and self-help. The Sioux 
City Journal thought his two-hour speech was 
impressive and called him “a prophet out of the 
wilderness.” The Iowa Bystander, a Des 
Moines newspaper owned and operated by 
blacks, covered Washington’s stay in Des 
Moines. Its editors said he infused spirit and 
optimism in a black community divided by 
strife and beleaguered by white indifference
SPRING 1991 17
and hostility: “It was a pleasure to see us 
together for once.
Washington s wife, Margaret, also carried 
this message to Iowa. In 1914, as president of 
the National Association of Colored Women, 
she spoke at St. Paul s African Methodist Epis­
copal (AME) Church in Des Moines. There she 
stressed the importance of charitable activities 
by women’s clubs and the need for racial coop­
eration. She also edited the “National Notes” 
newsletter for the National Association of Col­
ored Women and through this group worked 
closely with another black leader — Iowan Sue 
Brown.
Born in Virginia in 1877, Brown attended 
high school in Ottumwa and later moved to 
Des Moines with her husband, attorney S. Joe
Brown. There she became involved with the 
Colored Women’s Clubs, founded a welfare 
agency called the Richard Allen Aid Society, 
and served as a district superintendent of the 
AME Sunday School and later as president of 
the Des Moines chapter of the National Asso­
ciation for the Advancement of Colored Peo­
ple. She also served as business manager for 
the National Association of Colored Women.
Shortly after Booker T. Washington’s death 
in 1915, Brown wrote to Henry Tanner asking 
if he would paint a posthumous portrait of 
Washington for the Iowa Federation of Col­
ored Women’s Clubs, over which she pre­
sided. Tanner was happy to oblige. “I usually 
ask one thousand to twelve hundred,” he 
replied, “but would make it for you for $500 if
Sue Brown (middle row, far left) at 1936 convention of the Iowa Federation of Colored Women’s Clubs. On behalf of this 
group. Brown had asked Henry Tanner if he would paint a portrait of black leader Booker T. W ashington. When he 
agreed. Brown set about to raise the artist’s fee. Brown was assisted by Historical Department curator Edgar Harlan. 
The federation’s records are kept in the Archives of the State Historical Society of Iowa (Des Moines).
18 THE PALIMPSEST
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Artist Henry Ossawa Tanner, well known for his religious art and paintings such as The Banjo Lesson, painted Booker T. 
Washington s posthumous portrait in 1917. Tanner lived much of his life in Paris.
you wished me. Brown now faced the task of 
raising the money. Assisted by Curator Edgar 
Harlan of the Historical Department in Des 
Moines, she set up the Booker T. Washington 
Memorial Fund. Federation members solic­
ited donations, starting at five dollars each.
In 1917 the portrait was unveiled at a federa­
tion meeting in Ottumwa and then transferred 
by Harlan to the Iowa Hall of History in Des 
Moines. The painting was a respected addition 
to the portrait gallery. Tanner was a recognized 
and successful artist, whose paintings won 
international prizes and hung in the Louvre, 
Philadelphia Museum of Art, Carnegie 
Institute, and the Art Institute of Chicago. 
Although Tanner’s painting of Washington is 
not considered among his best, it is a work of 
considerable historical significance given the 
eminence of both painter and subject.
The portrait of Washington is now on loan 
from the State Historical Societv of Iowa to the 
Philadelphia Museum of Art, which has 
mounted an exhibit of Tanner’s work. The 
Tanner exhibit will later travel to the Detroit 
Institute of Arts, the High Museum of Atlanta, 
and the Fine Arts Museum in San Francisco.
Meanwhile, a museum exhibit about the 
struggle by black Americans for greater free­
dom and economic opportunity will open 
in April in the State Historical Building in 
Des Moines. “Field to Factory is a traveling 
Smithsonian Institution exhibit that chronicles 
the Great Migration of blacks from the South to 
the East and Midwest. □
SPRING 1991 19
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Henry Tanner and Booker T. Washington: The Iowa Story Behind the Portrait

Sexton, Rocky

Iowans in Cajun Country: An Overview and a Request

Leaf, VaDonna Jean

Sure hope things 
go better tomorrow
Letters from a Traveling Salesman, 1928-1935
by VaDonna Jean Leaf
‘7 made $9.20 and a jack rabbit today. 
Will mail you the rabbit tomorrow.
I
N THE GREAT DEPRESSION year of 
1930, Arthur Leaf (the man who would, 
some twenty-four years later, become my 
father-in-law) lost his land, the new house 
he had built, nearly all of his worldly goods, 
and, with great shame, his church. Bankruptcy 
was considered such a disgrace that the church 
board met and voted to strike his name from 
the membership. What he did not lose was the 
spirit to survive hard times by taking on extra 
work away from his family.
Hard times were not new to Leaf and his 
family in north-central Iowa. In the mid-1920s 
he had farmed forty acres that he owned and 
160 acres that he rented from his grandfather. 
W hen the lease ended unexpectedly in 1928, 
upon the death of his grandfather, he realized 
that he would need more income than what a 
forty-acre farm could provide. Looking around 
for extra work, he found a job that year as a 
traveling salesman, a job that helped Leaf pro­
vide for his family during eight years of finan­
cial strain, bankruptcy, and recovery.
In 1928, thirty-six-year-old Leaf went on the 
road, driving a second-hand Ford Model T car 
and selling subscriptions to the Des Moines 
Register and Tribune, Wallaces Farmer and 
Iowa Homestead, and other magazines. He 
also sold pots and pans, tools, groceries, and 
spices from a company called Hitchcock Hill, 
and gardening and nursery stock for Sherman 
N ursery of N orthern  Iowa, located in 
Hampton.
To care for the cows, horses, chickens, gar­
dens, and fields, he left behind his wife, 
Johanna Marie, and four children: Paul, age 
seven; John, six; Florence, five; and red-haired 
baby Dale. Art would be gone during the week 
on pre-arranged and take-a-chance routes. He 
planned to come home on weekends to tend to 
the necessarv farm work.y
Art and Marie were anxious about this new 
venture. Would they make a living? Would 
they be able to make payments on their small
186 THE PALIMPSEST
A jaunty Art Leaf behind the wheel, sometime before he undertook the rigors of winter driving in his new job.
farm? Would the car hold together? How long 
would the tires last? And there would he 
expenses on the road for lodging and for meals 
( eats” as Art called them).
Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Art 
had said.
Marie was frightened to face alone the haz­
ards of wintertime: wood stoves, chimney-soot 
fires, frozen pumps, blizzards. And there was 
the care of four young children, especially 
Paul, who was sick a great deal. She made one 
firm stipulation about this separation: Art was 
to write home every day. Marie and the chil­
dren wrote back, mostly on one-cent postcards 
(to save on the three-cent cost of a letter), and 
sent them to General Delivery in the towns 
where Art expected to be.
Found sixty years later in an attic, a sample 
of this correspondence survived. The existing 
letters are few. They are neither a day-to-day 
account nor a thorough record. For instance, 
no letters speak of the couple’s grief when 
youngest son Dale dies of polio in August 1929, 
nor of their joy when Doris is born in 1932.
Nevertheless, the handful of letters and 
cards sketches out an Iowa family’s life during 
troubling times. Often written from small­
town hotels or from a rented room in a private
home, Art’s letters home give glimpses of the 
life of a traveling salesman during the Great 
Depression.
Leaf ’s sales reflected the unsteady cash flow 
of Iowa farmers, and his letters note the rash of 
farm auctions. He dealt with customers who 
backed out on sales or who paid in goods rather 
than money. Prepared for such barter, he 
strapped a chicken coop onto his Model T. The 
chickens he received in trade were worth ten to 
fifteen cents each at the local grocery store. If 
he made a good bargain he would get enough 
cash to cover the subscription price plus a few 
cents profit. (The letters that follow have been 
edited slightly.)
Belrnond, Iowa 
December 12, 1928
Dear Marie and kids,
Well, another day is gone and I am back in 
my room again. I made $9.20 and a jack rabbit 
todav. Will mail vou the rabbit tomorrow but it 
may be spoiled when it gets there if they keep it 
[too warm] in the mail [room]. If it is, it will be 
all right for the chickens.
Am going to try and get a couple more and 
bring Sat. if I can.
I met a boy on the road carrying two of them
WINTER 1990 187
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Art Leaf (seated) and Marie Swanson (left). Photograph 
taken before their marriage.
and a rifle so stopped and asked if he won Id 
trade a rabbit for a year of the paper and he said 
he would so I took him up. The rabbit was still 
warm so could not mail him till tomorrow.
There are sales around here every day. One 
sale south of town yesterday, one east today 
and one north tomorrow so in the afternoons so 
many people are not home. But it seems to go 
fairly good anyway.
1 took back another dish pan and wrench
today, and took some checks dated ahead.✓ 7
Have you heard from [the mortgage holder 
on our form] yet?
There is no ten cent store here that is verv
y
good. Every thing is awful high here. They 
even had the nerve to ask 15 cents for a writing 
tablet.
Mv meals today cost me: breakfast 25, din-
^ / 7
ner 40, supper 15 and my room and car stor­
age 75, and 60 cents for gas. Leaves me $6.90 
clear. Am sending the two checks dated ahead 
in this letter.
I ordered 3 more cookers and 3 blankets 
[premium gifts for subscription orders].
And asked for more territory so will know
*
what plans to make for next week.
Am wondering how your cold is coining and 
how the kids are. Has the snow gone yet? I am
used to bare ground here now so it would seem 
funny to come back and drive on snow again. I 
was stuck in the mud today and had to back-up 
half a mile but most of the roads are gravel.
I don’t seem to get any chickens in trade at all 
now so I guess I didn’t need the coop very bad.
How is Ma [Art’s mother] getting along? I am 
anxious to hear from you that you are all right 
down there. If you don’t get a chance to mail 
anything have your Ma send me a card when 
she goes downtown [in Stratford] so I will know 
how you are getting along.
Tell the kids I will be glad to see them when I 
get back. It seems that it keeps me busy eve­
nings more than I thought it would. I did not 
get in town till 5:30 and then went and made 
out the daily report and mailed it [to the home 
office], and went out and had supper and got 
the car put away and now it is 8:30 so I will go to 
bed soon and will mail this tomorrow. Will mail 
that rabbit at noon tomorrow as the mail going 
south leaves here at 1:30 in the afternoon so it 
should get there the next morning.
This is all for tonight. Wish I will get to hear 
from you in the morning.
Good night 
Art
Belmond, Iowa 
Dec. 13, 1928
Dear Marie and kids,
It sure has been a miserable day today. 
Started to rain when I was making my second 
call and rained all day. Kept on working till 
dark and made $6.80 and a pair of Ford coils 
and my dinner and a tire chain.
Was lucky to have gravel roads all day. The 
dirt roads are awful now. So I don’t know how I 
will travel tomorrow if it does not freeze up hut 
I think it will do that.
I think I sold another cooker today. He said 1
y
should come back next week as he would get 
his cream check from the Creamery on Sat. and
y
would have the money then. Well, there is not
y * 1
much that I can think of to write about so my 
letter will not be long tonight. The rainy 
weather is awful hard on mv clothes and over-
y
coat. I did not get wet but got so muddy. I have 
only one blanket left now and no wrenches and
y
four cookers so will have to work on cookers 
tomorrow. I have taken in two dish pans and
188 THE PALIMPSEST
two wrenches [in trade]. I mailed the rabbit 
today. Don t know if it will he very good when 
you get it or not.
I just counted up and have taken 17 orders so 
far; 7 of them are new and 10 renewals and it 
totals up to 51 years [of subscriptions].
Well it is after eight o-clock again so I guess I 
will quit and go to bed all by my lonesome 
again.
I will be glad to be back home again. Tell the 
kids I think about them every day and wonder 
how they are and wonder what they are doing. 
I suppose they are sleeping now or asking for a 
drink of water or something.
Wish you were here so I could give you a 
good hug and kiss but will have to wait till Sat. 1 
guess.
Art
Jewell, Iowa
Monday Eve.
[Date unknown]
Dear Marie,
Weill am here and got a good room but had a 
)oor day as far as business goes but hope it will 
3e better tomorrow.
I stopped and got my check of Bill at 
Stanhope so if I spend all I got I will have the 
$1.50 left when I get to Stratford, anyhow. But 
I hope I will have a good day tomorrow.
I am going to try and get an early start and 
make a real day of it and see what I can do. I 
worked till seven o’clock this eve so haven’t had 
time to get lonesome yet. Just had supper and 
found a room and got the car in the garage. 
Well, the room is ready now so I will go out and 
mail this and come back and go to bed.
Wish I could give you a kiss before going to 
bed but can’t tonight. Am wondering what the 
kids are doing now and what Paul said when it 
was bedtime and what sister said when she 
wants to hug her dad.
Will write you again tomorrow.
Art
B
ESIDES WORKING as a traveling 
salesman, Leaf tried to diversify his 
farm income. He grew and sold seed 
corn and garden vegetables and 
raised sweet potatoes for sale at the A. T. John­
son Grocery Store in Stratford. He hatched and 
sold baby chicks. For a summer of mowing a 
rural cemetery with a reel mower and cutting 
around the grave markers with scissors, he 
earned $37.50. And he continued selling news­
papers and magazines and nursery stock.
But despite Leaf’s attem pts to patch 
together an income, in 1930 bankruptcy 
struck. It was not a bank that held the lien of six 
thousand dollars on Leaf ’s small farm, but 
rather a wealthy man in the community. The 
lien holder foreclosed with reluctance and sor­
row, familv members recall, and thev con-* * j
tinued to speak of him with great respect.
A neighbor was chosen as referee, and it was 
his duty to tabulate and appraise all the live­
stock, farm equipment, and household goods. 
Anv item valued under fiftv dollars could be
+ 0
retained bv the familv; anv item over fifty dol-* s * j j
lars in value went to the mortgage holder. Thus 
the land was taken, as was the house Leaf and 
his father-in-law had built with their own 
hands. Because there were children, one cow
was left for the family. Two teams of horses and
0
the harness, and the chickens and pigs were 
taken. An old Fordson tractor with steel 
wheels, a two-bottom plow, acorn planter, and 
a cultivator were each valued under fifty dollarsj
and kept — perhaps so Leaf could farm again if 
he could find land to rent.
‘They even came into my house and took the 
rug off the floor, Marie said later. “And they 
took my double-tub washing machine, my pho­
nograph and all my Swedish records (perhaps 
to compensate for leaving behind machinery).
After the bankruptcy, came dismissal from 
their church. With wounded hearts that never 
truly recovered, the Leaf family moved onto a 
twentv-eight-acre farm. In place of cash rent, 
the landowner received one-half of all income 
Art and Marie and their children made on the 
four acres of hay land and two acres of vegetable 
garden. (The rest of the farm was timber 
pasture.)
Leaf continued selling subscriptions and 
household, farm, and nursery items. And he 
worked for neighbors making hay or picking 
corn by hand, earning the usual wage of that 
time, one dollar a day.
The children did their share of work, too, as 
te -vear-old Paul reported to his father in a
WINTER 1990 189
letter sent to General Delivery, Algona, Iowa.
Aug. 10, 1931
Dear Daddy,
/ 7
We have pulled the weeds in the squash, 
corn and beans patch. The pumpkin bugs are 
on squashes.
We got four tomatoes out of the garden. We 
are going to the mail box. Florence is going to 
write to vou tomorrow.
Your son,
Paul
RT LEAF WAS BEDFAST most of 
the winter of 1931/32, suffering from 
exhaustion, depression, and worry. 
Paul later recalled that winter as a 
time “when Dad was in bed all day. Appar­
ently both Marie and her mother, fearing the 
loss of Leaf s job, had written his employer to
explain that he was sick. In March 1932 Leaf s 
regional field manager, W. J. Payne, wrote 
back, expressing concern over Leafs illness 
and adding that Mr. Leaf is one of our good 
workers and we appreciate him.”
Three months later Leaf again needed to 
take time off, but for a happier reason.
[June 18, 1932]
Dear Mr. Leaf,
I certainly want to congratulate you on the 
new baby daughter that arrived at your home a 
few days ago. I hope that both the mother and 
baby are getting along nicely.
We will excuse you for being off a few days 
under the circumstances but hope that the 
youngster will prove an additional incentive for 
you to work harder and get more business in 
the future.
E. P. Schwartz 
[ Register and Tribune 
subscription manager]
Marie and the children handled the farm work when Art was on the road. Paul (far left, with his aunt Linnea s arm 
around him* is next to brother John. Marie, center, holds baby Dale.
190 THE PALIMPSEST
ETTERS IN THE W INTER of 
1934/35 reveal that Leaf was still sell­
ing subscriptions on the road, driving 
across north-central Iowa in an un- 
heated car.
Lakota
Jan. 15, 1935
Dear Marie,
Well, I got here about 10 o’clock. Went out 
and got a two year [subscription,] all I got all 
day. Was very cold here, right close to zero so 
had a hard time to keep warm while working. 
Quite a little snow here [too] so that helped to 
make things disagreeable. They had a heavy 
sleet just before the snow so from [Humboldt] 
and up the paving was like a sheet of glass so 
had to drive verv carefully.
I got a room in a little hotel here. I don’t 
think I am going to like it very well but had to 
take it as it is the only place in town. Got my car 
in the garage for the night.
The room cost me $2.00 for the week so 
thought I had better stay here than drive to 
another town.
1 have not heard anything of the other men 
yet so don’t know how things are.
Things don’t look quite so prosperous as they 
did at [Ottosen?] but they had good crops here.
It was really [too] cold to go good to work 
today. Hope it warms up tomorrow.
Tell Paul if it stavs awful cold down there hey
will have to see that the cows have enough to 
eat.
Am looking for a card tomorrow to hear how 
Paul was when he woke up.
Tell the kids hello and that [it] is rather 
lonesome here all by myself. Am going to make 
out my report now so will close.
Art
Lakota
Jan. 17, 1935
Dear Marie and kids,
I did not hear from you today but suppose it 
was so bad weather the kids did not go to school 
so you did not get a chance to mail anything.
I did not have a very good day today. Only 
sold a five [-year subscription] and took a note 
on that. It sure seems everything is against a 
person on this job. It was two below zero this 
morning and it is going to be colder tomorrow.
John, Paul, and Florence Leaf took on extra farm chores 
while their father was on the road.
I had planned to drive over to see Joe Larson 
[former neighbor and distant relative], but I 
did not feel like going out any more after I got 
in and got warmed up.
My foot has been hurting bad all day today 
and I wanted to get my shoe off and rest it.
I wish vou would see what a different wav of* J
living this is to what we are used to. Here we 
are living together in this hotel, one horse 
buyer, one cattle buyer and his young wife, one 
veterinary, one mechanic and me. I sat down- 
stairs and talked with them till eight o’clock and 
then came up here to make out reports and 
write this letter.
fhe horse buyer is an old man about 65 I 
guess, he was sore tonight, he got a truck to go 
out and get a truck load of horses for him and 
when they were coming back another truck 
crowded them off the road so they upset and he 
was pinned fast in the wreckage for about an 
hour. But he was not hurt more than bruised 
some.
I never got stuck today but pushed a lot of 
snow.
If you should have to call me by phone the 
name of this place I stay, it is Clara’s Cafe.
I sure hope things go better tomorrow. I 
have not been able to send in totals yet.
I sure need business. I mav work some on
WINTER 1990 191
Portion of 1931 newspaper photograph, in which Art 
Leaf (front row', left) takes his place with fifty-six other 
county' managers at a Des Moines sales convention.
Sat. so may not get home til late unless I hear
from vou that vou need me home early./ / /
Tell the kids I wish I was going home tomor­
row. It will take at least 5 hours to drive home 
the way things are now.
Art
Thursday morning
[Undated]
Dear Art,
The ground is covered with snow and it is 
still snowing. Paul got all the wood worked up 
and piled in nice round piles, one of split, one 
of chunks, one he can make either chunks or 
fine, and then he has a pile of chunks by the 
door and one of fine on the porch so we get 
along fine on wood. I slept good last night. The 
boys slept down stairs. I have an awful cold in 
my head. Doris counts on her fingers when 
Dad is coming home. Hope you bring me a few
hens. Paul is going to kill one hen today for his 
birthday today. Now I must dress baby. The 
children are all O.K. Doris slept good last 
night. We got your letter yesterday.
Love, Marie
T
HAT YEAR, 1935, Art and Marie and
the children were able to rent a 218- 
acre farm with fifty acres of cropland, 
along the Boone River in Hamilton 
County. (In time they would buy the land.) The 
family branched into making sorghum syrup. 
Leaf named his product Bell s Mill Pure Cane 
Sorghum, after his new community. Paul, now 
fourteen, was put in charge of the cooking 
operations. Leaf and his son John handled the 
field operations. As the years passed and the 
demand for Bell s Mill Sorghum increased, 
they planted more acres of the sweet cane and 
hired ten to twelve workers each fall during the 
sorghum-cooking season.
The family joined a new church, which Art
served as deacon for many vears. Marie went
* *
back to teaching rural school. Paul was allowed 
to go to school only if there was no pressing 
farm work — often only one or two days a week. 
Nevertheless he was the salutatorian of his high 
school graduating class in 1940. Art and Marie s 
two daughters would be college graduates.
Art and Marie continued to live frugally. 
They feared debt and any purchase that was not 
essential, convinced that hard times were again 
just around the corner. They never bought a 
new car, new machinery, or carpet for the 
house — even though Marie often longed for a 
wool rug ‘like other folks have. ” Art did all the 
grocery buying, a task he had taken over during
the hard vears, when Marie had come home
0
shamed and crying because she had been 
denied credit at the grocery store. They 
faithfully tithed to their church and often took 
great boxes of foodstuffs and clothes to families 
having difficulties.
In 1969 Marie died of cancer, and in 1976 Art 
died, at the age of eighty-three. For many 
years, he and Marie had owned their farm debt 
free. They had accumulated savings and 
enjoyed the respect of the community. Their 
story, told in Art s letters, is a tribute to one 
family’s perseverance through hard times. C
192 THE PALIMPSEST


Sure hope things go better tomorrow': Letters from a Traveling Salesman, 1928-1935

Kunze, Joel

Shameful Venality: The Pierce-Wallace Controversy and the Election of 1896

Thompson, Tommy R

Feeblemindedness, Criminal Behavior, and Women: A Turn-of-the-Century Case Study

Horton, Loren N

Part 3 in a series
Interpreting 
the Image
How to Understand
Historical
Photographs
by Loren N. Horton
INTERPRETING A PHOTOGRAPH of an 
interior requires an eye for detail and often an 
understanding of the customs and attitudes of 
the time period. This image of a late Victorian 
(1880-1900) parlor of a middle-class family is a 
rich source of information about late Victorian 
furnishings. But perhaps more interesting are 
the anomalies — those elements of this image 
that do not seem to follow the customs and 
thereby suggest insights about the people in 
this unidentified photograph.
An understanding of the function of Vic­
torian parlors will help us interpret the pho­
tograph. C ertain elements are typical of such 
rooms; others present questions. To begin, one 
might list all the furnishings and features of the 
room. This method helps the viewer dis­
tinguish details and, in this case, demonstrates 
the abundance of objects in Victorian parlors. 
(From our 1990 point of view, Victorian parlors 
were over-furnished, but we must avoid allow­
ing our own taste to interfere with judgments 
about what should and should not have been in 
the room.) The Victorian parlor was a special 
room that was not used often and probably only 
for formally receiving guests. It was not a room
126 THE PALIMPSEST
. ^ *
FALL 1990 127
É
in which to relax. Sitting rooms more often 
served the purpose of today s living room or 
family room.
Clues about the People____________
The woman seated in a chair beside a small 
table appears to be doing some sort of hand­
work, perhaps sewing. Women often sat in 
their parlors, doing handwork or expecting 
callers. Hence there is no real contradiction in 
this woman using the chair, the table, and the 
room for this apparent purpose.
The man seated at the elaborate piano on a 
bench or stool, however, raises questions. His 
pose is towards the camera, away from the 
piano. He is not even making a motion of play­
ing the instrument. Women and children were 
supposed to demonstrate some proficiency in 
music and other artistic endeavors, but men 
were mostly supposed to make a living at some 
occupation that took them out of the house. If 
this were an artistic, musical, or literary house­
hold, we might suppose that other manifesta­
tions of such talent would be visible. No such 
artifacts appear that indicate creative produc­
tion rather than decoration. The man is not 
really out of place in the photograph, but he 
does appear to be posing in a room that is not 
his usual habitat. He might more likely be in 
his smoking room.
Children were seldom allowed in Victorian 
parlors, unless they were brought in on special 
occasions to perform for guests or at holiday 
time to open presents. Here, however, one 
child is seated in a chair and another crawls on 
the rug. Perhaps a young girl would be seated 
in a small chair beside her mother’s chair, to 
learn handwork skills from her role model. But 
even if we accept the notion that the older child 
might belong in the parlor on occasion for spe­
cial purposes, it is much harder to accept the 
presence of the younger child in the room. 
Young children were usually confined to the 
nursery, where they were cared for by nurse­
maids (common to even middle-class families 
because of the availability of cheap immigrant 
labor). Note that the child’s toys are scattered 
about on the rug. This is surely a condition that 
would have been unacceptable in any but the 
most casual Victorian household. We therefore
question the posing of this photograph, and 
why this room was chosen if the younger child
and toys were to be included.✓
Even more unlikely is the presence of the 
dog. Although it provides a wonderful illustra­
tion of the difficulty of photographing animals 
in the days of long exposure time (we note that 
the dog moved and is blurred in the pho­
tograph), animals were not commonly allowed 
in parlors. No matter how fond the Victorians 
were of their pets, there were places and times 
for them, and the parlor was not one of these.
Clues about the F u rn ish in g s_______
Although the room furnishings are not solely 
functional, they are in accordance with thej
numerous etiquette guides and furnishing 
handbooks of the late Victorian period. The 
sculptures, framed photographs, prints, paint­
ings, many pieces of furniture, vases, cushions, 
and shelves are all items expected in a middle- 
class home. The wallpaper is a bit unusual 
because the same pattern covers the walls, 
both below and above the picture rail, and the 
ceiling. Wallpaper was frequently used on 
these surfaces, but the same pattern was sel­
dom repeated in all three places. Carpeting 
covered with additional rugs was common, 
though the mixture of these particular patterns 
was not recommended in most furnishing 
guides. This e ither indicates some indi­
viduality by the family or the availability of 
these rugs as convenient purchases.
In the right corner, the sofa, or arrangement 
of cushions, rugs, afghans, and animal skins, is 
of particular interest. Such arrangements were 
sometimes referred to as a “Turkish corners’’ or 
“cozy corners. Great dust catchers, they were 
not always created for people to actually sit 
upon. Sometimes they were used as a backdrop 
for tableaux vivants, in which Victorians would 
don costumes and strike classical or exotic 
poses for entertainment. The Turkish corner 
was basically a sort of artistic rendering that 
required yet more conspicuous consumption.
A Victorian family with money spent it in ways 
that allowed the neighbors to know that they 
had money. Displaying an abundance of 
objects demonstrated to visitors that a family 
could afford such purchases. It is this charac-
128 THE PALIMPSEST
teristic of the Victorian middle class that 
explains the period s flamboyant architectural 
extravaganzas, the enormous number of items 
used in furnishing rooms, and the elaborate 
fashions in clothing.
Assuming this room is indeed a parlor and 
intended for entertaining, there is a curious 
lack of chairs for visitors. Others may be behind 
the camera, but any ornate chairs would proba­
bly have been included in the photograph. 
Were straight chairs carried into the room 
when the lady of the house was ‘at home’ (the 
term that meant she was receiving guests)? 
Most parlors had both comfortable chairs and 
uncomfortable chairs. Visitors were not neces­
sarily expected to stay very long, and place­
ment of uncomfortable straight chairs tended 
to hurry them along instead of allowing them to 
linger over tea. Etiquette books of the period, 
for instance, dictated that guests should not 
stay more than ten minutes during a “New 
Year’s Day Call.”
The woodwork on the two doors and two 
windows has the typical “bull’s-eye block at 
the top of each post, articulating the lintels. 
The posts and lintels appear to be fluted with 
machine planing, in a way that is very typical of 
the millwork readily available in the latter dec­
ades of the nineteenth century. Portiere treat- 
ment of the door on the left is also typical, as are 
the curtains and drapes on the two windows. 
Picture rails were common, although this one 
is unusual in that it is level with the woodwork 
(rather than above) and continues across the 
chimney.
The bookcase on the left is an interesting 
feature. Many items are placed on the top, and 
the shelves serve double duty as “what not’ 
shelves for small vases and busts. It must have 
been hard to get a book out, but perhaps the 
books were meant to be seen and not read. 
Because of the uniform book bindings, the 
books look suspiciously like the kind wealthy 
Victorians bought “by the yard for decoration 
rather than for reading. Lighting in the room is 
not really ideal for reading or sewing. (Note the 
round-globe lamp on the bookcase. When lit, it 
would seem dangerously close to the wall­
paper.)
The stovepipe hole in the chimney is cov­
ered with an elaborate feather or fern arrange­
ment and some sort of pendant. The covered 
hole suggests that the photograph was taken 
during the warm months of the year. If a stove 
was set up in the room in the colder seasons, 
then we might question the placement of the 
grand piano. The stovepipe would have passed 
directly over the lid of the grand piano. Grand 
pianos were costly. Would those who could
have afforded one reallv have wanted the heat,✓
soot, and danger of sparks and fire coming that 
close to such an expensive item?
Clues about the L ig h tin g __________
The lighting fixture on the ceiling resembles a 
gas light, but there seem to be wires leading to 
it. Does this mean that the house was originally 
piped for gas and has since been converted to 
electricity? The type of fixture on the right wall 
appears in many catalogs of gas lighting fixtures 
in the latter nineteenth centurv. No wires are 
visible leading to it. Does this mean that both 
gas and electric lighting are used in the house 
at the same time? The two visible lamps could 
be of either variety, or use kerosene or other 
fuels.
Clues about the Photographer_____
Another curious aspect of this photograph is 
the angle at which the view is taken. How is 
this particular view and angle possible? And 
why? Why would a family want this view, 
which distorts the general impression and does 
not flatter either the furnishings or the people?
These thoughts lead us to wonder whether 
the intent (of the photographer or the subjects) 
was to have a photographic record of the people 
or to have a photographic record of the furnish­
ings and decor. Photographs of furnished but 
unoccupied rooms are common in the late Vic­
torian period, and reveal middle-class pride in 
conspicuous consumption. Including people 
somewhat lessens the importance of the fur­
nishings, and this particular pose does not 
show off' the people to their best advantage. 
The photographer’s effort seems to have failed 
to do justice to either the room or the people.
But are we imposing our late-twentieth-cen- 
tury values and ideas on another time and
FALL 1990 129


Interpreting the Image: How to Understand Historical Photographs (Part 3)

Hewitt, William L

Blackface in the White Mind: Racial Stereotypes in Sioux City, Iowa, 1874-1910

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