Myth #149: Wide floorboards were illegal in English colonial America since trees wider than 24″ were considered “King’s lumber.”

Lisa Hassler, a Massachusetts realtor specializing in selling historic homes, wrote, “I was reading your blog and I couldn’t find any reference to wide plank floors, so I thought I’d ask. Many times, when visiting a house museum, the curator will say that the floor boards were “King’s wood” or “King’s lumber” because anything wider than X (I think 24”) was supposed to be sent back to England for the King’s use as ship’s masts. If that was true, then breaking the law was the norm rather than the exception. Would love to know, is King’s wood truth or fiction?”

Well . . . a little of both. Call it a stretch. Certain tall straight trees, especially Eastern white pine, could be marked with a Broad Arrow (three slashes) to reserve them for the monarch because they were so vital to making ship’s masts and booms. (Andrew Vietze, White Pine: American History and the Tree that Made a Nation) But this didn’t apply to all large trees or to all colonies. People using wide pieces of lumber for floorboards were not necessarily breaking the law or stealing the king’s lumber. Large, old-growth trees were plentiful in the early colonial years and widely used in furniture making and building.

Here’s where the 24″ part comes in. In Massachusetts, the Charter of 1691 states in part, “And lastly for the better provideing and furnishing of Masts for Our Royall Navy Wee doe hereby reserve to Vs Our Heires and Successors all Trees of the Diameter of Twenty Four Inches and upwards of Twelve Inches from the ground growing vpon any soyle or Tract of Land within Our said Province or Territory not heretofore granted to any private persons And Wee doe restrains and forbid all persons whatsoever from felling cutting or destroying any such Trees without the Royall Lycence of Vs Our Heires and Successors first had and obteyned vpon penalty of Forfeiting One Hundred Pounds sterling vnto Ous Our Heires and Successors for every such Tree soe felled cult or destroyed without such Lycence had and obteyned in that behalfe any thing in.” (Note the phrase: growing upon any soil or land . . . not heretofore granted to any private persons.)

In New Hampshire, an act passed in 1708 reserved all mast trees with a diameter greater than 24″ for the royal navy. Violators faced a fine of fifty pounds. In 1722 a new law reduced the diameter 12″. Surveyors of the King’s Woods were assigned to identify suitable mast pines with a broad arrow mark. (see http://www.NewEnglandHistoricalSociety.com, New Hampshire Pine Tree Riot of 1772, and https://websterhistoricalsociety.org/?p=309)

I wasn’t able to find similar laws in other American colonies.

However, it was definitely illegal to sell mast trees to anyone but the British navy, even though they paid less than the French or Spanish. That was a law colonists must have broken all too often, because Parliament kept passing laws protecting mast trees for the British navy.

More door myths: Double doors for superstitious people

Melissa Nesbitt from Texarkana Museums System in Arkansas writes, “I just heard this from a visitor to our museum today–he can’t (of course) remember at what historic home he heard it, but it went something like this–there were often double doors on older homes (one on each side of the front area I think he meant), and one was used for entering and one for exiting because it was “bad luck” to enter and exit through the same door.  Yeah, right…  ”

Actually, Melissa, your visitor has it backwards. The superstition says it is bad luck for entering and exiting through different doors. So if you entered through the back door, you should exit through the back door to avoid bad luck. Some attribute this to Irish superstition; others to general folklore. 

I can’t quite see what the visitor here had in mind . . . “double doors” are just a single opening with two doors that open from the middle. If he meant “two front doors” in one house, he’s probably picturing a duplex. 

Myth # 148: Pan tiles (S-shaped roof tiles) were made by workers shaping the clay over their thighs.

Steve Herchak wrote: Hello again, and thanks for your fabulous posts! In my early days as a volunteer docent at a colonial house I heard for the first time something I’ve often since heard from guides, that being, that the curves in pantiles for roofing came from the workers shaping the clay over the tops of their thighs. The idea seemed absurd to my ears from the get-go that soft clay could be formed like that and somehow hang together and still keep its shape when lifted off and set aside to be fired. The idea of perhaps patty-caking the clay flat for something large like a tile on a surface of similar size such as a thigh was at least in the realm of conceivable, but why not just work it on a surface such as a plank or work table like dough for baking? But because I heard this from the mouth of a “top” guide and heard it repeated since, it keeps me from saying “absolutely not” to people who say “I heard the way they made those tiles was shaping the clay over their thighs,” even though, like the “old glass in windows continues to sag with age” myth, the mechanics of this one also strike me as impossible. Could you bring the hammer down for a verdict on this one?

Well, Steve, this is a bit esoteric, but I’ll give it a go. Please chime in if I’m off base on this topic. 

I’d never heard of pan tiles, which are S-shaped clay tiles used for roofs, especially in certain countries (Scotland and England) and in certain eras (Roman, then the art was lost until rediscovered in the 12th century). There is even a famous picturesque center of Tunbridge Wells, England, called “The Pantiles” after their quaint roofing styles. 

After doing some preliminary research online, which is all I can do for this topic, I can only say I believe this is a myth because it would have been far too laborious to be practical. And workers are practical, above all else. No documentation mentions making tiles on one’s thighs, and frankly, it would be a lot easier and a lot more regular (regularity being important for a roof that will drain rainwater efficiently) if you made them using a mold. Bricks were made with molds, other tiles were made with molds. Why would pantiles be made without molds on your thigh? Makes no sense to me. If I were in your shoes, I’d challenge those who say it to prove it with documentation or cease saying it. 

Thanks to a reader, I now feel certain my gut feeling was correct. Thank you, Joanna Kenny, for the reference to the York (England) Archaeological Trust technical report about tiles, which reads  on page 40: 

These tiles were made in moulds placed over a block or stock-table, both of which were coated with very fine sand, and there was a depression in the top edge of the block that produced the nib on the underside of the tile (Betts 1985, 535-7). The tile was then placed in a second mould and ‘washed-down’ to obtain its characteristic curving shape (ibid., 537). After partially drying it could be beaten back into shape if any warping had occurred while drying; the tile was then fired (ibid., 537).

Also check out these websites for more information on tiles than you ever thought you would need. This one, below says, in part, 

At first clay plain tiles were simple rectangles of clay with nibs pressed out by hand, and laid to overlap the joints of the ones beneath. They were generally 10½ x 6½ inches, which was a size that was not only convenient to press out by hand, but was also easy to handle on the roof. Less scrupulous manufacturers sometimes made them smaller to save on their costs, prompting King Edward IV in 1477 to pass an Act of Parliament laying down their minimum size. Today plain tiles remain standardised at 10½ x 6½ inches and are often referred to in the industry as “ten and a half by six and a half tiles”. Although this size has persisted as the norm through the centuries, in some places plain tiles were historically supplied in non-standard sizes; in York for example many of the older buildings are still roofed with tiles using 12 x 7 plain tiles. Where replacements are needed today for such odd sizes, manufacturers can usually offer to make them to those sizes.

More general use of clay plain tiles seems to have commenced in the 12th or 13th centuries. After the Great Fire of London in 1666, thatched roofing was no longer allowed in London and clay tiles provided an obvious fireproof alternative.

Overlapping tiles were first re-introduced into Britain from the Netherlands in around the 16th century. It was the Dutch nation that probably discovered the idea of linking tiles together using an ogee or S-shape, rather than relying on their vertical overlaps to prevent the ingress of water. This new design was effectively a Roman under and an over, joined into one tile. It was a clever idea, not at all as simple as it at first appears. Even today tilers who are not familiar with the way pantiles overlap find it a difficult concept to understand. In order to make them fit against each other from side to side, and also from top to bottom,  it was necessary to chamfer the top right and bottom left corner (shoulder) of each tile.

These tiles became known in England as pantiles, believed to be from the Dutch word panne (German pfanne). The advantages possessed by pantiles over plain tiles were easily apparent. While plain tiles were laid with their side joints merely butted together, pantiles actually overlapped each other from side to side. Because water could fall through the side joints of plain tiles, 2 to 3 thicknesses of tiles were used to ensure that they were watertight. Pantiles on the other hand only required 1 to 2 thicknesses at any point. It is for this reason that we refer nowadays to plain tiles as “double lap tiles”, but we call tiles which overlap or interlock with each other “single lap tiles”. To construct a roof using plain tiles you need 60 tiles per square metre, but if you use pantiles you only need about 15 tiles. The savings in weight and labour time are obvious.

The National Park Services, a site I trust, has a technical preservation website for this subject.   No mention of making the tiles on your thigh. (See below)

Historical Background

The origin of clay roofing tile can be traced independently to two different parts of the world: China, during the Neolithic Age, beginning around 10,000 B.C.; and the Middle East, a short time later. From these regions, the use of clay tile spread throughout Asia and Europe. Not only the ancient Egyptians and Babylonians, but also the Greeks and Romans roofed their buildings with clay tiles, and adaptations of their practice continue in Europe to the present. European settlers brought this roofing tradition to America where it was established in many places by the 17th century.

Tapered barrel clay roof tiles were custom made for the restoration of the 1820s Indian barracks at Mission Santa Cruz in California. Photo: NPS files.

Archeologists have recovered specimens of clay roofing tiles from the 1585 settlement of Roanoke Island in North Carolina. Clay tile was also used in the early English settlements in Jamestown, Virginia, and nearby St. Mary’s in Maryland. Clay roofing tiles were also used in the Spanish settlement of St. Augustine in Florida, and by both the French and Spanish in New Orleans.

Dutch settlers on the east coast first imported clay tiles from Holland. By 1650, they had established their own full-scale production of clay tiles in the upper Hudson River Valley, shipping tiles south to New Amsterdam. Several tile manufacturing operations were in business around the time of the American Revolution, offering both colored and glazed tile and unglazed natural terra-cotta tile in the New York City area, and in neighboring New Jersey. A 1774 New York newspaper advertised the availability of locally produced, glazed and unglazed pantiles for sale that were guaranteed to “stand any weather.” On the west coast clay tile was first manufactured in wooden molds in 1780 at Mission San Antonio de Padua in California by Indian neophytes under the direction of Spanish missionaries.

By far the most significant factor in popularizing clay roofing tiles during the Colonial period in America was the concern with fire. Devastating fires in London, 1666, and Boston in 1679, prompted the establishment of building and fire codes in New York and Boston. These fire codes, which remained in effect for almost two centuries, encouraged the use of tile for roofs, especially in urban areas, because of its fireproof qualities. Clay roofing tile was also preferred because of its durability, ease of maintenance, and lack of thermal conductivity.

Although more efficient production methods had lowered the cost of clay tile, its use began to decline in much of the northeastern United States during the second quarter of the 19th century. In most areas outside city-designated fire districts, wood shingles were used widely; they were more affordable and much lighter, and required less heavy and less expensive roof framing. In addition, new fire-resistant materials were becoming available that could be used for roofing, including slate, and metals such as copper, iron, tin-plate, zinc, and galvanized iron. Many of the metal roofing materials could be installed at a fraction of the cost and weight of clay tile. Even the appearance of clay tile was no longer fashionable, and by the 1830s clay roofing tiles had slipped temporarily out of popularity in many parts of the country.

 

Revisited Myth # 141: Colonial-era bread ovens were constructed outside the fireplace, to one side of the hearth.

Above: 18th-c. New England fireplace with rear bread oven; below: Michie Tavern fireplace with right side oven.

This is more misunderstanding than myth, but Cindy Conte of Michie Tavern, Charlottesville, Virginia, asked me to address the subject, so I will! 

“The 18th-century hearth is one of the most romanticized and iconic images of colonial times,” writes Cindy Conte. “Early depictions feature a woman in colonial garb cooking over a roaring fire. Sadly, this romantic hearth cooking image has been stamped into our mindset as permanently as it has been inked into old history books. At least once every season a tourist will point to the bread oven which is tucked to the side of our fireplace and exclaim, ‘That has to be wrong. A person would get burned baking bread if the oven were placed there.’ Surely, they are thinking of that colonial woman, a roaring fire and possibly a large black kettle. Quite often, we explain that once a fire was good and hot, the coals would be separated into piles (think of burners on a stove) and several dishes could be prepared at once. Bread could be prepared as well. Bread ovens were tucked into the side of hearths, at the back of hearths, close to the hearth, to the right of the hearth, to the left of the hearth and outside.”

Bread ovens (which had doors that are missing in these photos), could be constructed in various places around the fireplace. Why build one inside the fireplace where surely it would be harder to access? Frank Clark, Colonial Williamsburg’s supervisor of Historic Foodways, says the reason is: “It was cheaper. If you put your oven on either side of the fireplace, you must also build a flue to tie it into the main chimney. This takes more bricks and more labor from a mason. If you don’t, your kitchen fills with smoke when you use it. When you build it in the back of the fireplace, it feeds to the main chimney with no flue. It is, however, more difficult to use since you have to keep the hearth fire to the other side so you can access the oven.”

So bread ovens at the back or side of the fireplace are not mistakes. 

 

 

Revisited Myth # 140: A woman would use a diamond to etch her name/date on window glass to see if the stone was genuine.

window at The Old Manse in Concord, MA

“I am a museum interpreter at Bacon’s Castle in Surry, Virginia. We have a couple of window panes that have names, dates, and even a branch with leaves etched in them – all from the 19th century. Is it true that ladies would test their diamonds or other gems to see if they were real or glass by doing such etchings?”

You may have heard that a real diamond will scratch glass and an imitation one won’t. If only it were that easy! Many high quality imitation diamonds made in recent decades are harder than glass, so even fakes will scratch glass. Don’t rely on this myth to determine whether your own diamond-looking piece of jewelry is genuine or not. Take it to a reputable, local jewelry, one who has been in business for many years, and he or she will tell you at no cost whether it is genuine or not. They will not appraise it at no cost–for that you need an experienced CGA or Certified Gemologist Appraiser who has the training to judge your jewelry value it.

The idea that the ability to scratch glass proves a diamond’s genuine-ness is clearly a myth today. But what about in earlier times?

Well, it was closer to the truth in the past, when imitation diamonds were made of something called “paste.” Not the sort of paste you used in kindergarten to glue lace to your Valentine, this word meant a type of glass with a high lead content that was used to make imitation stones. According to the Encyclopedia Britannica, the Romans were the first to make this sort of imitation stone. For all you chemists, here’s the lowdown: 

“Before 1940 most imitation gems were made from glass with a high lead content. Such glasses were called paste because the components of the mixture were mixed wet to ensure a thorough and even distribution. Colourless paste is commonly formulated from 300 parts of silica (silicon dioxide, SiO2), 470 of red lead (a lead oxide, Pb3O4), 163 of potassium carbonate (K2CO3), 22 of borax (a sodium borate, Na2B4O7·10H2O), and 1 of white arsenic (arsenic oxide, As2O3). Pigments may be added to give the paste any desired colour: chromium compounds for red or green, cobalt for blue, gold for red, iron for yellow to green, manganese for purple, and selenium for red.”

Nonetheless, that doesn’t mean it was true in the past–other clear stones that look like diamonds can scratch glass. Quartz, for instance. I think it likely that people who scratched on window glass were indulging in some playful or sentimental graffiti rather than testing their diamonds.

Some window glass in the Virginia Governor’s Mansion had two little girls’ names etched in it–these were youngsters who lived in the mansion when their father was governor in the 1840s. (Sadly, that pane went missing during the 1999 renovations.) Many old houses have windows with initials, names, dates, or even sketches that were scratched in the glass. My theory is that most of them were done by girls or young women having fun, but I can’t prove that. 

Does anyone else work at places where someone etched something into the window glass?  

 

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Revisited Myth #131: Government buildings were color coded in order to identify them for illiterate Americans.

The subtext to this one is, ” . . . because so many (or most) Americans were illiterate back then.” For that, scroll way back down to Myth #37 about shop signs. And thanks to Noah Briggs who adds, “This myth proceeds on the bizarre assumption that the American literacy rate was worse “back then” than it is today. In reality, the US had a very good literacy rate, as demonstrated in this article here. http://www.raggedsoldier.com/literacy.htm” That links to an interesting study of literacy during the Civil War era.

For the main portion of this myth, my thanks go to Carolyn Murphy who delivered the coup de grace. “In order to get the ultimate answer about color-coded post offices, I checked with the Jennifer M. Lynch, Postal Historian at US Post Service Headquarters, Washington, DC. She said: ‘I have never heard of color-coded government buildings. In the 1800s, most buildings that housed Post Offices were owned by the postmaster–not the government. There were no regulations regarding exterior paint.’ That seems to answer that question. For any further Postal information, go to http://about.usps.com/who-we-are/postal-history.” 

 

Why is Nobody Smiling?

A rainy day at the beach yesterday sent me to Norfolk, Virginia’s excellent Chrysler Museum of Art. I was particularly impressed by the labels on many of the works of art. They were very helpful in directing attention to certain features or posing thoughtful questions–or answering the question that is likely in the visitor’s head. This one made me think of the Myth 127: People didn’t smile in pictures because of the long exposure time required.  The myth speaks to photographs but makes the point that photographic portraits followed the traditions of painted portraits. Here’s what the Chrysler label said: 

Revisited Myth # 127: People didn’t smile in pictures because of the long exposure times required.

Martha Katz-Hymen at the Jamestown-Yorktown Foundation wrote about this belief. It is true, but it isn’t the whole story.

It is true that people rarely smiled in old photographs because it is harder to hold a smile than a relaxed face, and photographs were not a quick “click” in the early years. But that is only one reason. The other is cultural.

“But an article by Nicholas Jeeves, recently published in the Public Domain Review, suggests that, when folks frowned, they did so for reasons as economic, social and historical as they were technological. Mark Twain thought as much. In one of his letters, collected by Jeeves, he wrote:

A photograph is a most important document, and there is nothing more damning to go down to posterity than a silly, foolish smile caught and fixed forever.

Twain wasn’t the only believer in the idiocy of the style. Look back at painted portraiture — the tradition photography inherited — and you’ll rarely see a grinning subject. This is, in fact, Jeeves’s subject. “By the 17th century in Europe,“ he writes, “it was a well-established fact that the only people who smiled broadly, in life and in art, were the poor, the lewd, the drunk, the innocent, and the entertainment.’

Read the whole article: http://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/2013/09/why-didn-t-people-smile-in-old-portraits/279880/?google_editors_picks=true

And read Nicholas Jeeves entire article, below. Jeeves is an artist, writer and lecturer at Cambridge School of Art. One excerpt: “A walk around any art gallery will reveal that the image of the open smile has, for a very long time, been deeply unfashionable.” http://publicdomainreview.org/2013/09/18/the-serious-and-the-smirk-the-smile-in-portraiture/

 

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Revisited Myth # 125: The word “bar” comes from the cage or bars that barred people out of the bartender’s space.

Revisited Myth # 124: Taverns were brothels.

Cindy Conte, Curator of Historic Michie Tavern, Virginia, wrote, “On a recent episode of Pawn Stars a person was selling an 18th-century tavern license.  The context of the letter included the word “entertainment,” and both the buyer and seller came to the immediate conclusion that this  letter referred to an 18th-century brothel. As you know, in the 18th century the word entertainment referred to “maintenance or provision; the term covered eating, drinking, and lodging.”   “Entertainment” was the catchword of tavern keeping. The majority of public house proprietors were licensed to keep an ordinary for the “Entertainment of travelers and Strangers,” and their house signs were embellished with the motto. Tavern owners advertised genteel or “good entertainment” at their houses.  The Moravian supervisors of the Salem, NC tavern even agreed in 1800 that “the word Tavern must be removed from the sign and the word Entertainment substituted.” (Kym S. Rice, “Early American Taverns:  For the Entertainment of Friends and Strangers”.)

Yes, Cindy, I’ve often heard docents at taverns slyly intimate that their building was really a brothel. The myth here concerns the titillating implication that all or many early American taverns were really brothels. While there may have been some genuine examples in early America  (sometimes termed “disorderly houses”), they were certainly the exception. Outside large cities like London and colonial seaports like New York and Philadelphia, genuine brothels were rare, not because people were more virtuous back then but because the population wasn’t large enough. Read Harold Gill’s article on the topic as it existed in Williamsburg, VA at http://history.org/Foundation/journal/Autumn01/Demimonde.cfm?showSite=mobile.

 

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