Final Reflections

          Looking back at my time at Glen Foerd, I have mixed emotions. It is frustrating how much work I did, but how little I feel like I accomplished. I did extensive research on several different subjects, but was not able to apply them directly for use in the museum. Before the docents can provide a complete tour about Arthur Laws, the servant spaces need to be cleared and cleaned (this involves finding new homes for many large pieces in the collections that are currently stored in the basement). Some of the servant spaces were completely gutted and replaced by the Lutheran Church—specifically the butler’s pantry and kitchen. And the entire servant’s quarters are in use by the staff (the staff offices are located in the former bedrooms) or the catering company (the servant’s dining room is used for storage). I began research on the the lives of several leather workers at Robert Foerderer's factory, but did not have the time to discover any significant information. Rather, I feel like I laid the groundwork for a future intern to pick up and apply more directly to the interpretation at Glen Foerd. I also assisted with collections care. I helped relocate and clean dozens of objects, but there are still thousands (literally) that remain neglected. There is only so much one (or two or three) people can do at a time, and this internship really taught me to take things one day at a time--to focus on the small victories that will eventually affect the bigger picture.

            But overall, it was a very positive experience. The days that I interned this semester were consistently the best days of my week; on my Glen Foerd days I got out of bed with a smile on my face and looked forward to the day ahead. This internship taught me so much about different aspects of museum life, from fundraising to board disagreements to collections management to research. I’m thankful that I completed an internship at a site with such an eclectic collection, a small staff, and in the midst of such a transition. I was fortunate to work with Meg Sharp Walton and Erica Harvey, who were both happy to take the time to educate me about things I did not know and include me in all aspects of their jobs—even sharing with me their frustrations over the challenges they face every day. I enjoyed both of their honesty, level-headedness, and humor. I think that the next museum I work at (or every museum for the rest of my life) will seem less overwhelming and easier to manage than Glen Foerd, but also probably far less interesting! I must say, as much as I complain about the collection, discovering a shocking (or beautiful or hilarious) object behind a closet door (or in a drawer or under a desk) nearly every time I entered the mansion was a unique experience that I truly enjoyed. Glen Foerd is a beautiful, mysterious mansion with the potential to become an incredible museum—especially if Meg and Erica stick with it—and I will miss my time there. I will certainly be back to visit and spread the word of this hidden house museum in the Northeast.

Week 13: A Day in Collections

      Over the past few weeks at Glen Foerd, the majority of my time has been spent assisting Erica Harvey, Curator of Education and Collections, with some collections management. First, I have to say a big huge THANK YOU to Erica for patiently (and expertly) providing explanations of collections policies and guidelines when including me in a project. Every time I work with the collection Erica gives me a lesson in Collections Management, which is extremely helpful. I know there is still tons to learn, but I feel like she has already taught me a lot!
       I thought today I would give you an idea of what it takes to work with the collection at Glen Foerd. Lately the priority has been to make sure the objects in the collection are safe, which has meant moving many objects to the collections closet or 3rd floor, where guests to the mansion do not have access.
The collections closet has been filling up rapidly lately with high-risk objects, and we needed to clear some space. A set of The National Encyclopedia of American Biography, dating to 1914, were taking up an entire shelf in the small room, and needed to be relocated.

Here they are in the collections closet:

I carried the encyclopedias a few at a time down the narrow back staircase from the offices (once the servants' quarters and staircase) and onto a cart, which I lined with protective foam. There were 16 volumes (one was particularly massive). It took me five trips down and back up the stairs to get each book on the cart. Unfortunately I neglected to take photos of the first leg of the journey.

I carefully rolled the cart through the kitchen, dining room, and main hall to the bottom of the main staircase (that's part of the cart in the corner):

I carried a few volumes at a time up these stairs:

Then these stairs:

And then these stairs:

And finally these stairs! Phew!

Repeat that four more times, and you have the journey of a complete set of encyclopedias from the collections closet to the linen closet on the 3rd floor of the mansion.

Here they are in their new home:

I noticed while putting them in order my volume that the collection is missing Volume IX, but has two Volume XIs. Wish I knew why!

And there you have a day (well, about 90 minutes) in Collections at Glen Foerd! Just imagine how domestic workers at Glen Foerd and other large households felt, carrying water or firewood up those steps numerous times every morning. I think it's safe to say I wouldn't have lasted a week.

Week 12: Reflections on Servitude

            Last week, I finished putting my research about Arthur Laws into a narrative. Executive Director Meg Sharp Walton shared it with her husband, who wondered out loud how present-day “servants” are treated in comparison to domestic workers in the early twentieth century. When Meg brought this question up to me, we both immediately pointed out the obvious fact: I am one of these servants. Well, at least sort of—and no, I am not referring to my 150 hours of free labor at Glen Foerd. For the past two years, I have worked as both a full-time and part-time nanny for several different families. When Arthur Laws worked at Glen Foerd, Elizabeth May Prettyman cared for the family’s children as governess. She lived in a suite that faced the river on the East side of the house. There is still much to learn about Elizabeth and her life at Glen Foerd, but her descendants have provided a future intern with a very interesting starting place.

            Besides fundamental information such as her birthdate and place, they told entertaining stories of a romance that began at Glen Foerd between Elizabeth May Prettyman and her future husband Joe McGowan. Joe was employed at Glen Foerd as a gardener and probably lived in the gatehouse. Elizabeth was about twenty years his senior. The two fell in love on the grounds of Glen Foerd and eventually married. The romance caused quite the stir in Torresdale, and the couple lost their jobs with the Tonner family. My own experience as a nanny proved much less exciting, but working closely—and basically becoming a member of—another family does produce interesting experiences. Let’s just say it would make for a popular blog!

            Back to Arthur… since I finished the narrative, I thought I would share a page or two on my blog, for all to enjoy!

           

Arthur Laws was born in 1875 in Richmond, Virginia. His father Daniel worked as a farmer. His mother Lucinda kept house. Both of Arthur’s parents were born in Virginia in the early 1850s. Many records exist that document the lives of Arthur’s parents, grandparents, and even his great-grandparents. But none of these records date earlier than 1870. Because slaves did not regularly receive marriage licenses or appear on censuses, the lack of documentation prior to and during the Civil War displays that Arthur’s direct ancestors most likely spent a portion of their lives enslaved.

             Raised in the Marshall Ward of Richmond, Arthur was the oldest of Daniel and Lucy’s nine children. Around the turn of the century, Arthur migrated from Virginia to Philadelphia in search of work. He married Mary Taylor, also from Virginia, in Philadelphia in 1897. Arthur and Mary resided in North Philadelphia, near Temple University.

            An article from the Philadelphia Inquirer on July 31, 1898 described an event that occurred soon after Arthur’s arrival to Philadelphia. At the time, Arthur worked around the city as a waiter, taking various positions when they arose. A Philadelphia man named Charles Krouse convinced Arthur—and at least five other victims—that he wanted to hire him for a job. Krause conned Arthur into paying him $1.10 in advance, which he claimed was for Arthur’s train fare. When the day of the event arrived, Krouse was nowhere to be found. Along with the other victims, Arthur testified against Krouse in court. This event was likely very frustrating for Arthur-- $1.10 was a significant amount of money, particularly for a newlywed seeking work in a new city.

Week 11: The 1950 Inventory

            As I finished typing up what I have discovered about the life of Arthur Laws, I became frustrated with the lack of details we have about how Glen Foerd appeared during the Foerderer and Tonner eras. Records about actions taken by the Lutheran Church during its ownership are lacking, and documentation of the collection is spotty. Because of this, some objects that received accession numbers are not actually part of the museum’s collection. This makes the task of anything collections related both frustrating and mysterious. The collection is extremely large, and though some of the objects were likely used by Arthur or other servants, it is difficult to know for sure without an expert opinion or extensive research. For example, a table previously located in the front hall (and now in a safer location away from spaces used by the caterer) appears like an ordinary wooden side table, but was probably a butler’s tray. Upon closer inspection, it is obvious that the surface of the table is expandable into three shelves, and was likely used for serving food or drinks.

            When I voiced my frustration to executive director Meg Sharp Walton, she suggested I take a look at an inventory Florence commissioned for insurance purposes in 1950. Florence had several inventories taken about every ten years. The 1950 inventory is the earliest of these we are aware of. Though 1930 is the latest year we are positive Arthur Laws worked at Glen Foerd, the 1950 inventory helped give me an idea of how the house appeared during Arthur’s time there.

            Today the first floor of Glen Foerd is fairly empty. Granted, paintings, dozens of tables, and cabinets overflowing with artifacts line the walls of almost every room. One compliment that board members, docents, and guests of weddings agree upon is that the amount of objects—china, glassware, silver tea sets and punch bowls and coffeepots, books, paintings, small wooden and marble tables, and more—make the space feel homey. But after reading the 1950 inventory I learned that to Florence, Arthur, and anyone else who spent time at Glen Foerd before the Lutheran Church inherited it, the space would feel bare.

            The amount of things in each room in 1950 was absolutely shocking (and impressive and humorous) to me. For example, the drawing room, which is the second largest room on the first floor, today holds a grand piano, a Chippendale recreation bench, four wingback chairs, two small Venetian corner cabinets, and several small wooden tables with table lamps on top, and has lots of open floor space. In 1950, the drawing room held seventeen arm chairs, a dozen tables, plus more smaller tables with table lamps, floor lamps, cabinets, chaise lounges, etc. The floor was covered in 4x6 rugs, which judging from the inventory must have overlapped each other to fit into the space. Each room inventoried had a similarly ridiculous amount of furniture and decorations in it. This would explain why today the basement, carriage house, and third floor are full of furniture. It’s a shame the house appears so unlike it did when the Foerderers and Tonners lived there. Hopefully, as Glen Foerd develops, objects can be restored and returned to their original places, and visitors can experience a deeper understanding of life at Glen Foerd.

Week 10: Servant Spaces

             This week I spent most of my time consolidating all of the information I have discovered about Arthur Laws into a narrative. When Glen Foerd is prepared to introduce new information on tours, the narrative will allow the docents to easily learn about Laws and his role within the household to share with visitors. While writing the narrative, I referred to several “servant spaces” within the household, which will give visitors a visual of how the domestics interacted in the household and with the Foerderer and Tonner families. The significance of including servant spaces on tours has been emphasized by many historians—including Jennifer Pustz—offering advice on interpreting the lesser known, and often less pleasant, aspects of historic sites.

            At this point, several of the most obvious servant spaces are unavailable for visitors to view. The butler’s pantry is one of these unavailable spaces. When Robert Foerderer bought Glen Foerd, he renovated the entire house and added a large addition, including the portions of the house now used as the art gallery, dining room, kitchen, storage, and Glen Foerd staff offices. Foerderer kept detailed plans of the renovation, right down to the type of stain used on the cabinets in the butler’s pantry. These documents allowed me to discover what the house looked like when Arthur was employed there, especially the servant spaces which were not often found in photographs or referenced in inventories.

            The dining room and the art gallery remain as Foerderer designed them in 1903 (at least as far as we know and with what is left of the collection). The kitchen, however, was completely gutted and refinished during the period the Lutheran Church owned Glen Foerd. In redoing the kitchen, the wall that existed  separating the kitchen from the butler’s pantry was knocked down to expand the kitchen space. All that remains to display the location of the former butler’s pantry—where Arthur decanted wine and liquor, cared for the china, silver, and glassware, and prepared the daily dinner menus—is a change in the color of the linoleum floor tiles installed by the Lutheran Church. In Foerderer’s notes on the addition, he described the fixture in the butler’s pantry: “Furnish dresser from Butlers pantry out of chestnut, with closets and shelves above, and drawers and closets below.” There are four large (over six feet tall) cabinets that fit this description remaining at Glen Foerd, two in the basement and two in the carriage house. Perhaps someday the butler’s pantry can be restaged using these cabinets and any other furniture described by Foerderer in his plans.

            The kitchen itself would be completely unrecognizable to former residents and employees of the house, except the placement of windows. Behind the kitchen are several rooms with original wooden floors and a bathroom with tile that looks to be from the early twentieth century. Likely, one of these rooms was used as the servants’ dining hall. Another, perhaps, was the housekeeper’s room. Unfortunately, no plans have been discovered that prove what the rooms were used for during the Foerderer or Tonner eras. From Foerderer’s notes, we know there was once a servants’ porch as well, but no visible evidence of this remains.  The former servants’ quarters, including the narrow stairway up to them, is intact. Today the rooms are used as offices and collections storage, and until the offices are relocated, they could not be included on a tour. The servants’ bathroom also remains, with original floors, tile, and claw foot bathtub.

            The basement and third floors were also once servant spaces. On the third floor, the nurse and the governess each had their own room. The layout of the basement during the Foerderer years remains a mystery. We are sure one room was used as a laundry, but there are at least six other distinct spaces with questionable functions. I’ve been searching for architectural plans or inventories including the basement in hopes of learning the former layout with no luck. I still have five weeks left though, so I am holding out hope!

            The good news for interpreting servant spaces is that several very interesting spaces still exist and can be made easily accessible to visitors. These include call buttons, still visible in most rooms, a push button on the floor of the dining room that was used to signal the kitchen when the party was ready for the next course (which also helps tell the layout of the furniture in the room, as the lady of the house would have been seated where the button is located), and an original annunciator, which connected to the call buttons and pointed to which room rang for help, on the wall of a landing in the front servant stairwell. Each of these objects and spaces would add to a successful interpretation including the domestic workers of the house. Including them would offer a more complete history of the mansion, and those that once lived and worked within its walls.