Old Sturbridge Village, in Massachusetts, calls itself a living history museum, which means that it tries to portray the whole range of life and activities of its time and place, which is rural New England in the 1830s.
Carding wool by hand to align the fibers before being spun into yarn. The heavy cauldron was used to heat various herb mixtures to dye wool. Weaving was a home trade that was beginning to move primarily to factories.
I've visited there many times over many years, mostly when my children were young, but every time I learn something more from the costumed interpreters who people the village, demonstrate the crafts and trades and way of life, and are always ready to step out of role to discuss and explain more.
A good part of the reason I always learn more is that OSV is always learning more; behind the scenes, it's a major research institution, with deep collections and resources, and the interpreters take part in that as the Village assesses and reassesses the 'good old days.'
The times they are a-changing: As shipping good became easier, products of rural areas could travel further and crafts such as cabinetmaking became more important; the exhibit above is a prologue: Sturbridge is creating a building for an active demonstration of the work.
My most recent visit, last fall, came at a time when many of the usually-busy demonstrations were closed or moved outdoors, and many of the village's historic buildings were closed to the public. Sad, but in a way it gave me a moment to reflect on what was on display, and to think a bit more about the whole rather than the individual parts.
This time, I came to realize how much all the trades and crafts of a rural village in that period existed almost entirely in the context of small farming, the mainstay of the economy. With few exceptions, in a small village, few were full-time craftsmen or millers; nearly all were farmers eking out a living with other work and serving their neighbors. For women, who dyed and wove cloth, made baskets and other items, the story was the same.
Sturbridge's sawmill reproduces one operated at the same sight by David Wight in the 19th century. Wight was a farmer who diverted a stream to power his sawmill and eventually other mills. It's still the power for OSV's mills.
Even among those with highly-specialized trades, there was usually at least a piece of land for the family's own needs. Here's an illustration of the blacksmith's year: Fall and Winter were the times for most of the smithy work, with Spring and Summer more devoted to the farm.
Aside from all the tools and fittings that needed repair, the blacksmith also served his neighbors horses and oxen with iron shoes; this frame just outside the smithy held animals still while the work was done.
Blacksmithing was not the only metalwork practiced in rural villages; tinsmiths use a variety of tools, including mechanical crimpers of different kinds to produce kitchenware, lamps and lanterns and much more. Last fall, the Village tinsmith had to abandon his usual cluttered quarters for an outdoor venue.
Aside from the sawmill, the Village has a gristmill, where nearby farmers would bring their grain to be pulverized between stones like these, with power supplied by the millstream turning a water wheel. The miller, also a farmer, would take a portion of each farmer's grain as his fee.
Sturbridge's third mill represents a sort of 1830s crossing point. The improved transportation that allowed Sturbridge's products to travel further also allowed factory goods from industrial centers to arrive, and sometimes to replace local made. Some tools and cotton cloth were among the first to feel the heat. And the handwork of carding wool came to be done in small mills like this one, capable of processing a pound of wool in 10 minutes rather than 10 hours.
Sturbridge's carding mill is powered by a then-new and innovative tub wheel, a sort of turbine, that allowed more precise control and required less water. The mill stream flowed under the mill instead of beside it.
Pottery was another winter project for farmers; Hervey Brooks, the Connecticut potter whose work is the basis of Sturbridge's exhibit, practiced the trade for many years, and was noted for extensive record-keeping—a research bonanza. The kiln is a reconstruction of his, and the pottery itself is the original building, moved from Goshen, Connecticut, where the Village did a full-scale archaeological dig.
Saved for last (yes, that's a cobbler pun) a small shop explores the work of hand-made shoes. Basic farm and work shoes, not the fancy city work, nor the machine-made shoes that were starting to flood the market at that time.
The transition was summed up in the folk song 'Peg and Awl.' Here's a version by Pete Seeger. The song, like the carding mill and the many other changes that were taking place at the time remind us: Change is constant; sometimes in ways we favor, and sometimes not. And it's good to take a look back at places like Sturbridge not to pine for old times, but to understand how change takes place, and that it affects us all as individuals.
Title image: Cooper's workshop at Old Sturbridge Village
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