History Makers

Just a little sharing of the joy.  Last Saturday night the Rock County Historical Society gave me a beautiful "History Makers" award for the work I have been doing in leading tours through Oak Hill Cemetery.  There was the stained glass and engraved award itself, but also a humbling video introduction, and a lovely evening of food and drink and music.  The decorations were all based on a USO theme, and some people came dressed in uniforms or 1940s garb, and there were displays all over the former armory where the event was held.  I had a blast, and enjoyed seeing lots of local folks who are associated with or just support the RCHS.  I am very grateful.

Enjoying October

I have always loved October.  It is a relief to be able to return to jeans and flannel shirts.  I like my cool bedroom and morning that doesn't come too soon.  I am happy to ditch the played out summer flowers for asters and mums.  It is often sunny and relatively warm, and the trees turn into bouquets of color.  Oh, and apples.  I can buy fresh Macintosh apples and make apple crisp. 

In October we traditionally drive the convertible up the Mississippi and stay over a night somewhere.  Sometimes its one of the little river towns, but this time we returned to the St. James Hotel in Red Wing, mercifully far enough from railroad tracks to allow for a good night's sleep.  This year, as last, we scored a  couple warm and pretty days, and reveled in Wisconsin back road beauty.

This is also the second year I am leading twilight tours for the Rock County Historical Society, the only ones that I dress up for.  A friend who has a sign business made me a sign as a gift, though he made a "typo" spelling cemetery.  Ah well, people know the tour is on, and the gift of the sign was a sweet thing.  Mama always said I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, and she was right.  People are pouring into the tours, and we get a laugh over the sign.

Now go out and enjoy these days before it gets cold.

A Month of Orange: Poe, Stoker and Shelley

The photo doesn't have anything to do with writers of horror, but it is the shelf in my kitchen. My orange for the day.

I agreed weeks ago to a couple of fund raising events at the local historical society.  There was an afternoon event where I used dice to tell fortunes for children and their parents.  I've done it before, but not for years.  I found directions for "divination by dice" online and used the regular fortunes for the adults and "softened" versions for the little ones.  Inevitably at least one person stops, and gets a funny look, and says, "How did you know...?"  But really, it's just a game.

The evening event involved three people who did fifteen minute readings from classic horror stories in the darkened and decorated Lincoln-Tallman restorations.  I prepared a reading from Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, and performed in costume, in the bedroom where Abraham Lincoln stayed in 1859.  I had a good time - and I hope my listeners did too. I wish I had a chance to hear the Poe and selection from Dracula, but you can't have everything.

Nellie Tallman, Revisited

Last fall a retired teacher friend, a woman very interested in local history, asked me to prepare a talk for some local Questers groups on Cornelia Frances Tallman, the daughter-in-law of a local prominent businessman from the late 1800s.  The Tallman House is a local attraction, a lovely brick home on a hill, best known for hosting Abraham Lincoln for a couple of nights when he was campaigning for President.  Nellie was the last person to live in the house before it was shut up in 1913 for decades.  Eventually one of the Tallman descendents donated the property to the city, with the stipulation it be used as a museum, and since then the Rock County Historical Society has been refurbishing it and hosting events and tours in the building.

So, I read everything I could find on the Tallman family, and Nellie in particular.  There was a fine book written by the late Julia Horbostel, who read all Nellie's diaries and scoured newspaper archives and the Tallman papers.  Then I also read as much as I could about Janesville from the 1850s until 1924, when Nellie died.  I was fascinated by local newspaper archives, available online.  I knew some of the Questers would have read Horbostel's book, so I wanted to include events and details the book didn't cover.

It took all winter.  I made a card file, a sort of timeline, of events relating to the Tallmans, to Janesville history, and US history.  I looked at old postcards, and historic photographs.  I found vintage magazines of the era, and tried to make sense of what her life must have been like.  Then I aimed to create a first person account that would keep people awake in a program scheduled for right after lunch.  I reckoned that a half hour was the upper limit, so once I wrote the original draft, I kept timing and editing it down to thirty minutes.

The program was held in the parlor of the old Tallman mansion, and I enjoyed showing up in costume and having the paintings and furniture all around.  People seemed interested, and had all sorts of questions and comments, which was good.  It was also helpful that a retired director of the Historical Society attended the program, because he also had stories to tell.

Here's my script.  I put it in a small leatherette journal, similar to the diaries that Nellie kept.

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Welcome!  Are you comfortable? It’s wonderful to see you here today.

We’ve had some excitement, haven’t we?  Did you see the glow in the sky last night? The power is back on, which is an improvement.  The city turned off the electricity during the fire on the Milwaukee Street bridge last night. Such a terrible loss! - Archie Reid’s store, the candy store, Brown shoes,  Amos Rehberg’s place and the dry goods store  - all gone.  We can be grateful that nobody was killed! No more arguing about repairing the rotting bridge deck; the entire thing will have to be replaced now. The newspaper says divers are searching for Archie Reid’s safe, which apparently is at the bottom of the Rock River.  Retrieving that will be challenge, with the water up so high and running so fast.  What awful weather we’ve had this spring!

How long has it been since those terrible fires in Chicago, and Peshtigo? Eighteen seventy-one - more than forty years ago.  Remember how we sent food and clothing to help people who lost everything in the fires? That wasn’t long after my sister Ella married Charles Cory and moved to Chicago, then they lost their baby son.  Sad to remember.

Time has gotten away from me today. I’m up to my eyes in organizing and packing, and getting ready for my move. We’re in the middle of selling some of this furniture and the Turkey rugs. 

What is all this? I’ve been going through my things, books, photographs, letters, postcards, newspaper clippings.  Here’s a recipe - scalloped oysters.

Toast several slices of bread quite brown, and butter them - on both sides.  Take a baking dish and put the toast around the sides instead of a crust.  Pour your oysters into the dish and season to your taste with butter, pepper and salt, add some mace or cloves if you like.  Crumb some bread on top of the oysters and bake with quick heat about fifteen minutes.

It’s not too late for oysters is it?  They should be good for another month, I think. 

When Ed and I were first married, after we had come home from Washington and moved in here with his parents, We used to have them shipped in from Chicago by train, and on Sunday nights when Eliza was off, we’d sit down for a treat.

What else? Here’s one for graham bread, one for grape wine.  Snowball pudding - fussy, but so good!

We had help, of course. Eliza was a fine cook for fifteen years, and later Mollie, and young Anna.  But those girls had their own lives; sometimes they were sick, or they went off and got married. But I liked being a good housewife. I could cook, and  sew, and clean.

A lifetime of things. They accumulate.  Yet they are so hard to dispose of! 

This house is too big for one person, especially a seventy-four year old lady. Too hard to heat.  Too old fashioned.  Too much work. 

It won’t be long until Stanley and Mabel’s new house is finished, then I will move in with them.  Charlie and May planning to build too, right next door.  I expect both houses will be large enough for families and guests - and grandmas.  Both Stanley and Charles have engaged Mr. Kemp as  architect.  Mr. Kemp has designed many churches and business, and private homes,  here and in Beloit and Stoughton.

So - I will live with my sons, just as Ed and I lived with Mr. and Mrs. Tallman.  William and Emeline lived here until they died, and later on my parents lived here with us in their last days. 

That’s how life is, isn’t it?  One generation lives its life - every joy and sorrow. Then they move on, and the next generation takes their place and it begins over again. 

All these photos!  Here’s Pa; I can’t seems to find one of Ma.  I miss them every day.

It’s 1913 now, so Pa’s been gone, let me see - 24 years.  And Ma died in 1899, so she has been gone almost 14 years. It seems impossible that people we love so much, who we remember so clearly -  can pass out of our lives.  But of course they do. 

Here’s Pa’s notice from the Daily Gazette:

May 15, 1889

"DEATH OF HON. OTIS W. NORTON

Rock County's Representative in the Earliest Wisconsin Legislatures

The End Comes at Three O'clock This Morning After Prolonged Illness

The life of one of the earliest pioneers of Rock county ended at three o'clock this morning by the death of Hon. Otis W. Norton, at the residence of his son-in-law, Mr. E.D. Tallman, North Jackson street.

Besides his wife, Mr. Norton leaves a family of five children; Mrs. H.D. Ewer of Milwaukee; Mrs. E.D. Tallman of this city; Mrs. Spencer Eldredge of Dwight, Illinois; Mrs. Charles D. Cory of St. Johns, New Brunswick; Mr. George O. Norton, agent of the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe railway in Pueblo, Colorado.

All the family will be present on Friday afternoon a 1 o'clock, except Mrs. Cory, who is unable to attend on account of her recent severe attack of pneumonia."
Our family had another sister, Charlotte, but she died in 1849, the year the Wisconsin Territory joined the union, while Pa was serving in the state senate. 

Pa, like many New Englanders,  saw opportunity in the West, and in 1841 my parents packed up all of us - except Ella - who wasn’t yet born - and we traveled to Milton, and Pa built a us cabin.  In a few years we moved to Janesville, and Pa began doing what he did so well, seeking opportunity, and helping the young city grow.  He helped organize and was president of the Central Bank of Wisconsin. He invested in railroads, and bought and sold grain, both here and in Illinois. He also was a founding member of the Congregational church.  He used to tell a story about how he came to be involved in church affairs:

In 1843 a man died in here Janesville, and was about to be carried to burial without any ceremony of any kind, and just at this moment Pa came riding along on horseback.  A young lawyer came up to him with a startling question - “Sir, can you pray?”  Pa replied that he used to something of that kind when he was in the East, but having been some five years in the West, he was out of practice.  The young lawyer, who turned out to E.V. Whiton, later a Justice of the Supreme Court of Wisconsin, urged Pa to attend the funeral, if he could, the reason being he had been all over Janesville and could not find a man woman or child who could, or would, pray, and being a New England man himself, did not like to see a man buried without religious ceremony.  Pa’s efforts apparently were satisfactory.

We Nortons were close - even after we all married, scattered off in every direction.  It’s a tribute to our parents, I think.  George is gone now, and it’s hard for me to go visiting off to Milwaukee, or Illinois.  And Ella is so far away, but we still write to one another.

I  haven’t really thought back like this in years. It must be all this sorting of mementos.  What are these, calling cards!  Look - my school autograph album.  Remember what you wrote?

May Earth be lovely where you tread
Its flowers be bright, its thorns be few,
May age rest lightly on thy head,
And joys forever new.

This reminds me of when I was sent back to New York to attend school.  The Phipps Union Female Academy - for “All branches of useful and ornamental education.”   That was 1858 - a whole year before Mr. Lincoln campaigned here, and spent two nights with the Tallmans in their new house.

I got along at Phipps Academy, but I missed my Janesville friends, especially Edgar’s sister Gussie. What good times we had before we were married! I was sure Gussie would marry Lucien Hanks, even if Lucien was her mother’s nephew, but she didn’t. She ended up marrying John Beach instead.  Lucien ended up marrying Sybil Perkins - they are still my friends.  Dear Lucien, who is famous, or perhaps infamous,  for not being able to stick out the night with Honest Abe in the upstairs bedroom.

Oh, we girls had fun. Sometimes we took the train to Chicago where the shopping was better than here.  We skated in winter, took long walks spring, summer and fall, and gossiped year round, and we loved to sew the latest fashions together. I think she approved of me marrying her brother, because then we became more than friends, we became sisters. For a little while.

Actually Edgar and I married, before Gussie and John did.  I had known Edgar and his family for ages.  Our parents knew each other from business affairs and from church.  Ed was three years older than I was. He was four year younger than his brother William, and a year older than Gussie.  They’re all gone now, Edgar, William, and Gussie.  Though William’s wife Maggie still lives on Academy Street. 

Are you still comfortable?  Need anything?  I seem to be rambling, skipping from thing to thing.

I was talking about  - what? - getting married.  We weren’t married here in Janesville, you know.  Mr. Lincoln was elected, and Ed was appointed to a job in the treasury in Washington D.C.  The war was raging, soldiers everywhere, the Capitol dome not yet finished when I joined Edgar in Washington.  We were married there December 12, 1861.  It was exciting to be in the nation’s capitol, exciting, and terrible.  We were back in Janesville before General Lee surrendered, back before President Lincoln’s death, back here and living here with Ed’s parents, and Gussie.

You know, as lovely as this house is, and as spacious,  none of the family was married here.  Ed’s parents were married back East, long before this house was built in 1857.  We were married in Washington.  Ed’s brother William married Maggie in New York.  Gussie and John were married in Chicago, and even the boys were married out of town.

Only one wedding here.  That was for May Dimock and Victor Richardson.  May was related to Mrs. Tallman, who had been a Dexter.  Mrs. Tallman’s sister Mary married Colonel Hanks, Lucien’s father, and May’s mother, Emma, was their daughter.  When Emma, died, I thought it was the least I could to  offer our home for her daughter’s wedding.  Especially since I never had a daughter of my own.

May was lovely bride. She wore white corded silk, trimmed in lace that had been part of her grandmother’s wedding dress.  The parlor was beautiful, the alter covered in fresh flowers, and lighted candles.  We hosted refreshments afterward as well, including a fruit cake that Eliza and I baked. That was a happy day. Victor and May’s three daughters are turning into fine young women.

I adore children, but Edgar and I were childless for thirteen years.  It was difficult, seeing my friends beginning their families, and us not having a baby of our own for so long.  Once, almost... 

Edgar’s parents were eager for us to start a family, although William and Maggie already had Willie, so there already was a first grandson.  When our Stanley finally arrived in July of 1874, I was thirty-five.  Life was suddenly very different. Stanley was a dear child, and we were lucky to live here in this comfortable home, with Grandma and Grandpa Tallman always ready to give help and love.

And then three years later, in 1877, the year after my parents moved to Illinois, our second son,  Charlie - Charles Edward -  was born.  Don’t let anyone tell you that two children are as easy as one!  Two children are a handful. Two hands full.

Eighteen seventy-seven.  A year of joy and then sorrow.  That was the year we lost Gussie.  John brought her back to Janesville, and we buried her at Oak Hill.

Then less than a year later, Ed’s father died, on May 13th.  We no sooner had taken him to his final rest than Mrs. Tallman joined her husband, on June 13th.  Both of the funerals were held here, in this house.  We all dressed in black, even the boys.

So much change, so quickly! Three family deaths in succession might have overwhelmed us, but two small children refocused our attention on their needs. 

And suddenly we were the older generation; we were running this grand house.  Mr. Tallman had considered selling the place, perhaps moving back East, or traveling abroad, but he never did.  So now we were the ones taking care of maintenance, hiring the help that came and went. So much to do!  Besides arranging for women to help with cooking, cleaning and laundry, we had to hire men to work the garden, care for the horse and sometimes the cow, deliver coal, shovel the driveway, and keep the plumbing in working order. I will never forget winter when the pipes froze and burst, wreaking havoc on our wallpaper and plaster. 

It wasn’t all work, certainly.  Mr. and Mrs. Tallman had chosen to live quiet lives, and rarely entertained, but now we had free reign to hold events here at the house.  We hosted card parties - we both played cards often - and suppers, and luncheons.  I had the Pocahantas Archery Club here at the house.

Remember coffee I hosted for my lady friends right before Christmas that first year after William and Emeline were gone?  Coffees were fashionable thing that year.  Fifty ladies arrived by carriage at 5:00 p.m. Anderson’s orchestra played upstairs, all seated around the elliptical opening in the hallway, so the music made a pleasant background for our happy chatter.  Lizzy was here from Milwaukee, and Mrs. Rogers, Mrs. Bostwick, Mrs. Pease, Mrs. Richardson, Mrs. Atwood, and Mrs. Wright, and you, all my friends from all over town. Such a lovely evening..

You recall those happy years, don’t you?  By the 80’s the boys were in grade school and didn’t need such constant attention, so it became much easier for us to entertain.  The largest party we hosted was in 1883, in January, when the weather can be so cold and dreary. We invited over two hundred people to the house, and had the Shurtleff’s cater the refreshments. 

And certainly we didn’t host every event.  We played cards at other people’s homes here and in Beloit, to charity balls, to Burns Night festivities in February, Watch Night get togethers for New Years Eve, and meetings of the Old Settlers Club.  I particularly remember a Dickens Ball. I attended with my father who was back in town by then, and I dressed up as Mrs. Lupin from Martin Chuzzlewit. Everyone dressed up as characters from Dickens!  All those David Copperfields and Miss Havishams, Fezziwigs and Scrooges.

Of course the 80’s weren’t easy.  The entire country was in an economic slump, businesses suffered, and local people were out of work.  William closed the Tallman laboratory and factory, so Ed wasn’t working for his brother any more, though he was involved in Tallman real estate affairs and investments. 

It was about then that Dr. Palmer opened the first city hospital in a rented house on Sutherland Street.  Remember? Of course back then hospitals were really only for people without families to care for them, or who could not afford to be cared for at home.  Some neighbors on Sutherland were not enthused about having a hospital in the neighborhood - they feared the hospital would bring down their property values. But remember how we campaigned for the hospital, and worked to supply it? 

When I look back, I remember those years with some happiness and pride.  I was busy with the boys, and even though my parents’ health was beginning to fail, I decided to become more involved in community affairs. 

Around 1886, I began attending meetings of the Associated Charities.  Janesville had about 10,000 people by then, and had its share of poverty and suffering.  Many of the poor worked hard to feed their families.  They fished in the river, hunted in nearby woods and fields, and raised vegetables in unused plots of land.  Widow Kinney, who lived near the railroad depot, used to fatten hogs to sell in order to keep herself together during the winter. And she wasn’t the only one with livestock.  People often kept cows in town; even we occasionally rented a milk cow.  Sometimes they caused problems, especially when they roamed loose and wandered into other people’s gardens, but people had to eat and drink!

But the larger problem was providing enough jobs.  Janesville was a magnet for rural mothers and daughters of poor families, and widows and abandoned wives, who came looking jobs working as domestic help, or as servants, or waitresses, or maids, seamstresses or washerwomen.  They worked in the mills, too.  There were factory jobs for men and jobs as day laborers.  But even so, for a variety of reasons, some families found themselves in dire straits.

We felt that it was our Christian duty to relieve suffering, if we could. Certainly the churches, lodges, and city officials provided help, but we believed there could be a civic group whose sole mission it was to help the  poor.  A coalition of around a hundred businessmen and their wives, including myself, decided to organize to address the issue of poverty in Janesville. 

So, Associated Charities was formed, and elected officers, and the mayor’s wife was elected the first president.  Members paid $2.00 annual dues, and welcomed representatives from all the churches, societies and public agencies.  We hoped to eliminate most duplication of charitable efforts, and to do a thorough job of discovering and alleviating need.  We divided the city into districts, and people volunteered to be friendly visitors who discovered and reported families in distress, and coordinated efforts to help them.

I was responsible for the First Ward, and besides doing home visits, went to dozens of meetings, I visited  families, repeatedly. Remember Mary Welch, so ill, and her young son with his crushed foot?  The council sent me to Fr. Roche at St. Mary’s to get his assistance, and we paid Mrs. Weaver to deliver meals to the family.  And then there was the Lightfoot family, who needed clothing and bedding for all the children.  Coal for Mrs.Fitzpatrick.  Groceries for a colored family.  So much need, even in the First Ward.

It wasn’t, and still is not, easy, to allocate  limited resources to the most deserving, to distinguish between the unemployed and the habitually idle, or those who waste their pay on strong drink.  Sometimes the job feels overwhelming, but I felt then, and still feel, that my energies spent in this effort are not wasted.

And certainly doing charitable work helped me get through some dark days.  In 1893 I lost Pa, a man who lived a life of charity, and who never missed an opportunity to visit the sick.  Both he and Ma moved in with us,  where I could care for him, but finally his heart, which had been so large, ceased to beat. 

And then other members of the older generation began to fall away, our old friend Mrs. Dimock, for example.  Dr. Palmer died in 1895, and his first hospital closed. Eliza’s arthritis worsened, so she left service, and we had to hire a whole series of new girls to help in the house. 

Then the hardest blow of all.  On August 18th of 1896, I lost my dear Edgar.  We went to bed as usual, and in the morning he simply failed to wake up.  The doctor said his death was the result of “A giving away of the tissues of the heart.”  I was glad that Lizzie was here, and that both boys were  home.  Once more the house, Edgar’s home for forty years, was draped in black.  All our friends and Edgar’s business associates came to the house for the service, and William and his family, and they all spoke of Ed’s kindness, and of his honesty.  Mr. Bostwick, Mr. McElroy, and and Mr. Van Kirk were among the pallbearers.   Friends and family, they were what made it possible for me to continue.

Then three years later, Ma passed away.  She was ninety-one years old.  Another funeral in the old house.  That was the year I turned sixty.

But even though I was no longer a wife or a daughter,  it was not the end of being a mother, or a friend, or of being useful.  Through those difficult years in in the 90s, my boys, my friends, and my work with Associated Charities kept me going.

I wouldn’t be honest if I said that losing people I loved wasn’t hard, but it does not help to dwell on what one cannot change.  I find that what does help to to focus on the present, most of the time, and look to the future.

The city is growing and changing.  Just look at the new jail, and the new Carnegie library, all built in the last ten years.  The Sisters of Mercy have bought Dr. Palmer’s old hospital and are making that into a first class institution.  It looks as though automobiles are going to be very popular, and we’re actually building them here in the city, though I cannot see how they will ever replace horses, the railroad or even streetcars.  Stanley and Charles are mad for automobiles - they have taken the train down to Chicago to automobile shows more than once.

My boys have grown into fine men.  Stanley graduated from the University of Wisconsin, and was admitted to the Bar in 1901. He married Mabel Walker, from Racine, two years ago, in Chicago.  He has always been active - he loves bicycling and golfing, and I know that he and Mabel enjoy entertaining and have many friends. Stanley helped organize the new Country Club, and he and Mabel socialize with many of the members. 

Charlie, even though he is younger, actually married before Stanley did. He and May Felton were wed six years ago.  Charles is also a competitive bicyclist, and he and May enjoy getaways to Hoard’s resort on Lake Koshkonong. He is working his way up in the telephone company, (I am still getting accustomed to using the telephone, but it is the future, Charles assures me) and I am thrilled to say that he and May are going to make me a grandmother this summer.  That certainly is something to look forward to!

I am still close to my sisters.  After Stanley and Mabel’s wedding,  they all came for extended visits to get to know Mabel better, which made me very happy. 

Well, it’s getting late. Talking is not packing, and I still have much to do before I can leave this house, my home for so long, and begin the newest chapter of my life.  And I’m sure you have things that need your attention.

Thank you for visiting, and listening so patiently.  I hope I haven’t bored you, though I know you would never admit it, even if I did.  Once I get settled in my new situation, we will get together again. 

May Earth be lovely where you tread
Its flowers be bright, its thorns be few,
May age rest lightly on thy head,
And joys forever new.

Stay well.

Capping Off Summer

 Dubuque Museum of Art - with huge statues to the left

Summer seems to be winding down here in southern Wisconsin.  The evenings are getting cooler, the nights filled with the sounds of crickets, the flowers looking tired and ragged.  My husband celebrated his birthday this week, and his desire was to take a multiple day bicycle ride home from the Mississippi River.  The weather forecast for the week looked good, so we drove west to Dubuque, and stayed over at the Hotel Julien Dubuque - very nice indeed.  Then he took his bicycle off the rack, hooked on the panniers, and left for a ride that included a side trip to the Quad Cities, a total of nearly 3oo miles by the time he returned home yesterday.

I had wanted to see the Dubuque Museum of Art, but it was closed on Monday when we arrived, so before I left Tuesday I waited around for it to open.  I wanted to see both their current exhibit of folk art, and their collection of Grant Wood art.  The museum opens at 10 o'clock, so I had time to sit in the park across the street and sketch the giant American Gothic figures that stand near the entrance.

My quick sketch of the statues - complete with a giant suitcase

The original Grant Wood painting, taken on a recent trip to the Chicago Art Institute

Before coming back home I drove north on the Iowa side of the Mississippi to McGregor, where I had made arrangements to be outfitted as a Victorian lady for a couple upcoming events with our historical society.  River Junction Trade Co. is a wonderful place, two stores, one for men and another for women.  It is filled with everything a historical society docent or re-enactor could need - hats, shoes, fans, dresses, undergarments, jewelry, anything.  I ended up with a walking skirt, mutton-sleeve shirtwaist, belt and cape.  I'm still considering what to do for a hat, but I had reached the full amount I had budgeted.

Mel helped me select clothing appropriate for a Victorian lady. My outfit is considerably less flashy than hers!

I had some time once I got home to read, water the garden, and take my annual trip to the Walworth County Fair.  It was hot, so I was not too surprised to find the midway uncrowded.  Or perhaps it was just because it was a weekday, and most adults were working.  Being retired, I not only got in for a reduced admission, but got to visit on a day the building were almost empty, and no lines at the stand with pork sandwiches, or cream puffs.  

It was crowded for the pig races, though.  These little porkers seem more than happy to scramble for the chance at an Oreo cookie.

I enjoy the fair, seeing the garden produce, the 4-H projects, the antiques.  I like wandering through the barns, seeing kids washing and brushing their cattle, feeding their chickens or rabbits, showing their goats or sheep.  But it always feels a little sad too, remembering how the fair was always a place to win ribbons, meet friends, ride the rides, mooch quarters off my dad or grandfather, who always seemed to be there too.  I did see one friend from school at the fair, but all in all, I felt a little like Rip Van Winkle, unrecognized in a familiar but changed place.

RCHS Tour and a Little Tree Painting

from the left, Kirk Leach as Levi Alden, me as Nellie Tallman, Henry Jones as a Civil War soldier, Ashley Glowinski as Lavinia Goodell, Brittany Boeche as Elizabeth Ripley, and Ron Brown as Brother Ira Dutton

Saturday was the Rock County Historical Society cemetery tour. The name is misleading because the event is more than a tour of old tombstones; it's a chance to learn about men and women who feature prominently in Rock County history. It was cold. We all work multiple layers under our costumes, and our fingers were pretty well frozen, amking holding a script a challenge. I wore a cape to disguise my winter coat underneath. I saw a few snow flurries, though by the end the sun had come out and it was less frigid. Despite the weather, a couple groups of people came out to walk the lovely grounds of Oak Hill cemetery and listen to stories. I enjoy the event not only because I like telling about Nellie Tallman, but because the old part of the graveyard lies high on a hill overlooking the surrounding city and countryside, and the changing autumn trees and the birds make for a pretty scene. Yesterday I saw a red-tailed hawk swooping through the trees hunting chipmunks.

I learned a few things from the handouts volunteers distributed. The Oak Hill Cemetery Association was formed in 1851 for the purpose of establishing a community cemetery. The Mortuary Chapel was built in 1890 and in 1917 the ornamental brick gates were added to the entry area. The City of Janesville acquired the 20 acre cemetery in 2008.

They also had a handout describing the symbolism on the old stones/ An anchor represented hope; if wrapped in vines it represented the Christian faith. An angel could mean rebirth or resurrection. Flying birds might suggest eternal life. Three links stood for the Trinity. A hand pointing up suggests the pathway to heaven, and clasped hands a good-bye at death. To keep warm before groups arrived I wandered a bit looking at old stones, saddened to see so many falling apart, or damaged.

On a different note, I'm still playing with acrylic techniques based on a recent video and Robert Burridge's web site. This little exercise involved covering my board with reds, golds, and violets, then letting the mass of color dry. I went back in and used the blues and white to create a negative tree shape. While the paint was wet I sprayed it with water, and let the drips suggest other trunks. I also lifted some damp paint. When this was dry I went back and added some shadows. This is very fun, and a good way to loosen up.

RCHS Cemetery Tour this Saturday

The old Rock County Courthouse, now demolished, in Janesville

Janesville's most famous landmark is certainly the Tallman House. This year, the bicentennial of Lincoln's birth has shined a spotlight on the property because the then future President stayed overnight with the well-connected Tallman family. The city owns the house now, and the Rock County Historical Society manages it. This book is a treasure trove of information about the Tallman family in general, and Nellie Tallman in particular.

On Saturday, October 10th, the RCHS will host an event highlighting her life, and the lives of several other prominent Rock county men and women at the annual cemetery tour. For several years I have enjoyed portraying Nellie and telling the story of her life. The old part of the cemetery where she and her family rest is lovely, high on a hill overlooking the city and surrounding countryside. You can see the Tallman house in the distance from that vantage point. This weekend it looks like it will be chilly, but I hope people decide to come out to see the place and hear about some local history. The event runs from 1-3 in the afternoon at Oakhill Cemetery.

This is the script I use to tell people about this "good and caring woman."

Isn’t it lovely here? I always thought Oakhill was a beautiful place. During my eighty-six years I came here often - to tend plots, place flowers, and remember my loved ones. We would sometimes come to the cemetery for quiet picnics among the graves. My name is Cornelia Norton Tallman; but call me Nellie. Everyone did. I don’t belong among the worthy citizens who have already spoken to you, because I never made any notable contributions. I am remembered mostly because I married a man who lived in a stately home which became a local landmark. Beyond that, my life was ordinary. I was a daughter, a wife, a mother and a woman who cared about other people, and who did what she could to ease other people's suffering.

My husband, Edgar Tallman, and I had a great deal in common. We were both born in New York and moved to Wisconsin as children. We came from upper middle-class families and both had fathers who were successful and public-spirited. Growing up, we lived near one another, attended the same church. Edgar’s sister, Gussie, was omy best friend. So it wasn’t surprising that we were married in 1861, I was twenty-two, and he was twenty-five.

We wed in Washington DC, while Edgar was working for the war effort. But when the Civil War ended, we moved to Janesville, into his family’s home, the Tallman House. Edgar’s parents, his sister Gussie, Edgar and I all lived happily together. I lived in the beautiful house for the next forty years. It was built in the 1850s, and was one of the grandest homes in the Midwest, costing $42,000 to build, well over $1.5 million today.

My life in Janesvsille was very comforable. I had no children until I was thirty-five, so I had few responsibilities at first. Since we lived with my mother and father-in-law, I didn’t have housekeeping duties. I had time for social activities. I liked to go for walks or carriage rides, even when the weather was cold. I often visited friends in Milwaukee, Madison and Chicago; the trains ran often. I had one chore, sewing. Ready-made clothing for ladies was not available, so all of it had to made by hand. I was fortunate - I had a sewing machine, a new invention. And I loved to sew. I remember I that I looked forward to Sunday evenings, because Edgar and I sometimes dined on oysters. They were very popular, available delivered by refrigerated railroad cars. Another treat I enjoyed was ice cream, though I blush to admit that sometimes I ate so much I made myself ill.

But please don’t think that I was concerned only with my own comfort. In 1871, the Great Chicago Fire claimed the home of my sister, Ella. She and her family were safe, but eight other women and I sewed for weeks to provide them with new clothes and linens. There was another fire in Peshtigo, Wisconsin, far more devastating, on the same day as the Chicago Fire. We sent those poor people meat and bread, along with our prayers.

In 1874 my life changed. I gave birth to my son Stanley. I was thirty-five. Dealing with new motherhood, my in-laws, a large house and servants became the main focus of my life. I remember Mr. Tallman teaching the baby to spit into a brass spittoon, which nearly everyone thought was cute.

Two years later my younger Charles was born, and not long afterward the senior Tallmans died within a month of each other. Now I had two young boys to raise and a household to run on my own. One big job was housecleaning. We did a major cleaning in April and again in October. Roads were unpaved then, and both mud and wind-blown dust made a thorough cleaning necessary. In summer we hired a man to bring his water wagon and sprinkle the streets around the house to try and settle the dust that blew in through the windows.

I was busy , but I found time to help others. Once the boys started school, I joined the Janesville Associated Charities, and I worked with them for over thirty years. In the 1880s there was a serious national economic depression, and Janesville had its share of poor people. The Associated Charities furnished food, clothing, and fuel, to the needy. I was responsible for several families and individuals, whom I would call on throughout the year. I tried to help them with their daily needs, and I also tried to help each of them to be self-sufficeient. For example, I gave Mrs. Cullen used furniture and linens so she could open a boarding house. I remember once I purchased a clock for a family so they could get to work on time. But not everyone appreciated my efforts. I sent a stove and a bed to Mrs. Repnow. But she didn’t like the stove, and she said the bed had bugs - so she chopped it up for kindling.

I also was involved in organizing the new city hospital. At that time, most people were cared for at home, and hospitals were mostly for people who lived in unhealthy settings, or who had no one to care for them. This hospital opened in 1880 as a temporary haven for the ailing poor. Even though it was sorely needed, the neighbors had to be reassured that the hospital would not lower their property values.

In addition to my charity work, I loved socializing. Now that the older Tallmans were gone, Edgar and I entertained more. We loved to give card parties, and we attended community functions as well. I remember a costume party where we all dressed as Dickens characters. I came as Mrs. Lupin, from Martin Chuzzlewit. You could not find a Dickens book at the library the week before that party. It was a great success; hundreds of people attended.

I found it very satisfying to watch my sons grow into men. Stanley went to college and became a lawyer. Charles stayed in Janesville and worked for the telephone company. My parents moved in with us in 1889. I loved them very much, and my mother lived with us until she died. She was ninety-one years old. Sadly, my husband Edgar did not have such a long life. He died when he was only sixty-one. I lived as a widow for almost thirty years.

But, as I said, I enjoyed my children. Both Stanley and Charlie were bicycle enthusiasts. They rode those big-wheeled bikes. They began as teenagers, but they raced well into their adult years. Stanley was also a golfer. In 1910, at the state tournament, he was knocked senseless when he was hit in the head by an golf ball. Perhaps that is one reason he decided to found a local course, the Janesville Country Club. Perhaps you’ve seen it?

Both my boys married. Charlie married Dr. Palmer’s granddaughter, May Felton. May was a nurse at the Palmer Memorial Hospital. She was a great favorite of mine. Stanley married too, and all five of us lived happily together in the Tallman house until 1915.

Then both boys built their own houses next door. Stanley’s house even had a thermostat! I had lived in the original house for almost forty years, but then we closed it up, and I took turns living with each of my sons. My daughters-in-law were good women, and I enjoyed sharing their homes and baby-sitting for my grandchildren. My final years with them were pleasant ones.

I lived a long time, almost eighty-six years, and I saw the world change. My life spanned Civil War to the Roaring Twenties. I was alive to use the first telephones, and to have electricity. I rode in automobiles, though I never owned one. I listened to music on my Victrola, and I saw moving pictures. I enjoyed the convenience of an electric carpet sweeper, and I voted in the 1915 election. It was a good life, even if I had the misfortune to outlive my son Stanley, who died in 1922, when he was only forty-eight. I passed away in 1924.

My life was marked by hard work, good times, and dedication to family and the welfare of others. My loving family and many good friends were my greatest treasures. And now, in death, I rest among the people who meant so much to me.

Some Holiday Pictures

Here I am, dressed up as part of a holiday open house at the Lincoln-Tallman restoration on Saturday. I portrayed Nellie Tallman, the daughter-in-law of the house's builder, and the person who lived in the house longest, from 1865 after marriage until 1915 when she moved in with her son. I showed visitors the master bedroom with its massive furniture, louvered shutters, and cold running water, then escorted them to Nellie and Edgar's adjacent room. There visitors saw some of the gifts the Tallman's exchanged, based upon entries from her diaries. This included such items as a tiny pique dress for little Stanley, Nellie's son, a child's wicker rocking chair, a tin horse, little mittens, candy, a set of Victorian blocks, some silk handkerchiefs, a pretty beaded pin cushion, some lacy sleeves to attach to a frock, and old currency. The house was decorated sumptiously, with all sorts of greenery, ribbons, poinsettias, and a different decorated tree in each room. It's a pity that more people didn't come out to see a real jewel of a home. The tickets were only $5, money the historical society needs badly for the house's upkeep. But maybe with so many people losing their jobs when the GM plant closes here on December 23, even that was too much.
The oldest glass ornament on our tree. It's scratched, but the handle and spout are still intact.
We moved our tree to the enclosed porch this year, where it is less in the traffic pattern, and cooler. This year I didn't go overboard in loading it with lights and ornaments. Only the glass balls went on, though I still may dig for the glass icicles. We like small balsams for their scent, and because on a makeshift table they are easy to decorate and water.

RCHS Oakhill Cemetery Tour

The past week I've been reading about this woman, Nellie Tallman.  She was married to a man who lived in a grand mansion, a place where Lincoln really did spend the night. I've been asked to portray her in an event that the Rock County Historical Society puts on every few years.  They convince a few interested people to portray notable figures from the community's past in a tour of Oakhill Cemetery.  I've stood by her grave and told her story twice before, and I'm looking forward to doing it again on October 18th.  I enjoy the chance to read more of local history and share it with people in an interesting way; this year I rewrote the script so I think it reads a little more smoothly than before.  She has a fancy tombstone, and her plot is in the oldest and prettiest part of the cemetery, high on a hill that looks out over the county. There are some challenges.  I never seem to get a costume that looks authentic, and my hair is just too short to arrange in any way that looks at all Victorian.  Sometimes the weather is an issue.  Last time, about five years ago, I shivered and shook up on the hill in a stiff breeze and drizzle. One of the historical society folks took pity on me and brought me an umbrella. It was amazing to me, but people came on the tour despite the inclement weather.  I have a shawl for this year, and if I'm lucky the weather will cooperate.

Odds and Ends and Jackalopes

I drew this odd critter from a photo I took on our recent trip to South Dakota.  I had heard of the elusive jackalope, a cross between a killer rabbit and an antelope (or deer, judging from these horns), but I had never seen a flying jackalope, which combines elements of the jack rabbit, antelope, and ring-necked pheasant.  But there in Wall Drug, stood the creature, and I felt compelled to draw it.  An internet search netted me many useful bits of information.  Its Latin name is Lepus Tempermentalus.  Its temperament is normally shy and elusive, though it can be fierce when threatened; watch out for those horns!  You can imagine how quickly one of these animals can move.  If one attacks, do not try to run.  Calmly lay on the ground and hum a non-threatening tune like Happy Trails to You.  

Other news from the home front included our thirty-third wedding anniversary this past weekend.  We drove to Mayville and spent part of a pleasant day bicycling on the Wild Goose Trail, which skirts the Horicon Marsh.  Then we stayed overnight at the historic Audubon Inn, which had a good restaurant attached.  I did real damage to myself with the Almond Joy pie I ate for dessert that night. 

Yesterday I had my final check up with the doctor who treated my detached retina in April. The news was that my eye has healed perfectly and I don't really need to think about it any more. Since we had to drive to Madison for the appointment, we spent the best part of the day going to lunch, shopping, and seeing Journey to the Center of the Earth in 3-D, complete with funky glasses.  I can't say it was great art, but it was lots of goofy fun.  

As for my talk at the historical society, nobody showed up to hear either me or the other women who dressed up and prepared talks.  We did have a good time telling each other about the notable women we researched, and we had a delicious box lunch.  Oh well.

Notes on a Strong Minded Woman

Last week a friend from the Rock County Historical Society asked me to join with several other people who would present the lives of some Janesville women who had made significant contributions to a group assembled for lunch. She asked me to prepare a short presentation about the life of Wisconsin's first female lawyer, Lavinia Goodell. I had not heard of her, but my husband had. In the courthouse where he used to work, there is a plaque dedicated to Goodell. So, I went to the Goodwill to get a black blouse and long black skirt, and to the library to information. My first version was too long, but I think now it's short enough to not put people to sleep. This is what I plan to present:

Despite a black skirt and blouse and my great grandmother’s cameo, nobody would ever mistake me for “Vinnie” Goodell. Rhoda Lavinia Goodell was tiny, barely 100 pounds. She wore her hair in ringlets, and had blue eyes. Despite our differences, I believe I can present you with a picture of this strong-minded woman, share some of her accomplishments. I will do what she did - I’ll read from prepared notes. She routinely read her speeches because, being a lawyer, she wanted to get her facts straight.

Thank you for allowing me to speak to you today. It gratifies me to know that in the 128 years since my death, community spirit and a desire to help people lives on in Janesville.

I was born in Utica, New York in 1839. When I was a child my parents instilled in me a strong sense of human rights. Our family dinner plates had quotations from the Declaration of Independence inscribed upon them, so that even as a small girl I learned by heart the principals of equal rights as I ate my daily bread. Our family’s meals included neither wine nor beer, since those strong drinks so often led to poverty and violence in families.

As a teenager I began to dream of being a lawyer. I wrote to my older sister that I thought the study of law would be pleasant. Maria was not supportive however. She called my goal “vain.” Later on I learned that my sister was not alone in this view.

I had other jobs before I became a lawyer. I helped edit my father’s abolitionist newspaper, I wrote articles about social issues for the new magazine Harper’s Bazaar, and I tried teaching. None of these jobs proved to be my real life’s work.

In 1871, my parents moved West to Janesville to join my sister, who by then had married. The following year when I was 32 I joined them . In 1871 Janesville had only been settled for thirty years. There were 8,700 residents, and the city was prosperous. Stores and businesses lined the Rock River and there was a fine new courthouse on the hill. There were twenty lawyers in town - all male. Twenty lawyers, and at least as many saloons.

At first I spent my time helping my parents, I attended church and taught Sunday School, and I went to Temperance meetings with my friend, Dorcas Beale. At that time while many Janesville residents felt that alcohol brought social evils, others were not opposed to strong drink. Once Dorcas and I were involved in organizing a large women’s temperance meeting to convince the city council that we needed to limit the number of alcohol licenses issued. Two hundred ladies met at the Opera house and organized a petition drive. When the the council met the next night we presented the results - 1,250 ladies’ signatures opposing new licenses. We did not sway the council. “If those 1,250 ladies’ names had represented 1,250 ballots, I reckon those licenses would not have been granted.”

Henry David Thoreau said that if one dreams a castle in the air, one is obliged to build a foundation under it. I realized that I needed to do more than sign petitions and attend meetings. I began to study law on my own.

I started going to the courthouse to watch trials. No doubt people thought this a strange behavior for a woman, but since I had no alarming eccentricities, other than a taste for legal studies, and since I wore fashionable clothes, attended church, had a class in Sunday School, since I made cakes and preserves like other women, I was tolerated.

Back then, lawyers often hired boys as clerks, but when I applied for similar positions I was turned down. Until I met Pliney Norcross. Pliney took a chance on me, after he decided that I was serious. His partner, A.A. Jackson was less supportive. While I was a clerk in that law office I decided I wanted to take the bar examination. A potential lawyer needed to be sponsored, and with some trepidation, Pliney Norcross sponsored me. He arranged for Judge Conger to oversee my exam. Conger was not sure it was legal for a woman to be a lawyer, but he was a friend of my family, so he allowed me to try. I was grilled for over an hour by three lawyers, and required to write out a legal paper. I passed the examination- at last I was a lawyer!

Father offered to pay my license fees, but Mother was less enthusiastic. She encouraged me not to start my own law practice. I opened an office, though I refused to furnish it with a spittoon.

My practice grew, and I found myself representing people other lawyers would not help, especially married women, whom the law treated poorly.

A turning point in my career came in 1874 when I represented a doctor’s widow, a Mrs. Burrington, against Sara Lu Tyler. Tyler had been raised by the doctor’s family. When he died, Tyler sued the estate, saying she had been essentially a servant in the household, and deserved payment for years of work. Mrs. Burrington insisted that the girl had been raised as a daughter, asked to do no more in than any daughter might be asked to do. The jury found in favor of Miss Tyler, probably because she was pretty and young. When Mrs. Burrington appealed, I expected to represent her Supreme Court in Madison.

In 1875, any male lawyer who was allowed to practice in a local court was also allowed to practice before the Supreme Court. But there was a problem. Chief Justice Edward Ryan strenuously objected to “strong-minded women.” Justice Ryan was well-respected, and one of the men who wrote the state constitution. But he believed that God and nature made men and women for different jobs, and that a woman’s place was to care for her home and children. I considered him to be an old fogy. The supreme court held a hearing, and a Madison attorney presented my arguments. First, the law did not say that a woman could NOT be a lawyer; the law said a PERSON when referring to lawyers. Second, it was a matter of fairness. The courts were created to bring justice and fairness to all citizens. Could women expect fairness from a court that excluded them? My final argument was that other states already permitted women to practice law at every level. Missouri, Iowa, Michigan and Maine, even the District of Columbia gave unmarried women the right to practice law

My hopes were high, but six weeks later the judges ruled that women could NOT practice law before the supreme court. Judge Ryan wrote that the use of the word “persons” implied that women could be lawyers. If the state’s laws were interpreted in that way, then women could vote, could be elected to office, and could pursue all of the businesses men were allowed to persue. He said that women should raise their families and work at home, and anything else would “tempt them from the proper duties of their sex.” Furthermore, the courtroom was not a fit place for women, because trials often deal with subjects that are “coarse, and brutal, repulsive and obscene.” Finally Judge Ryan said that if progress would naturally lead to more opportunities for women, “we will take no voluntary part in bringing them about.”

After the supreme court denied my petition, I was heartsick. Judge Conger, assured me that I could practice law here, so I threw myself into my work. I continued to write articles, to give speeches on temperance and on women’s rights, and to defend women, winning and losing some cases. I also did what I could for the men in our prisons and jails, and I believe I helped some of them to live better lives. The letters of gratitude they wrote to me gave me the encouragement I needed at this difficult time.

In 1877 I introduced eight bills for new laws to the Wisconsin Assembly, including one that allowed women to practice law before every court in the state, including the supreme court. I asked Assemblyman John Cassody, a Janesville lawyer, and speaker of the assembly to introduce my bill. I circulated petitions, wrote letters and met with several members of the Judiciary Committee. Some of the lawmakers privately told me they supported my cause but feared that if my bill was passed it might harm Judge Ryan’s health, perhaps even kill him.

On March 12th the bill passed; Chief Justice Ryan survived.

The next two years were difficult. I was sick, in constant pain, told by doctors in New York that I had an ovarian tumor that must be removed. But I could not take the time for myself. Both Father and Mother were very sick. Mother began to act so strangely that we finally had to admit her to a mental hospital, and not long after that Father passed away.

But at last I allowed myself to to travel to New York City have surgery. It was very difficult. I spent weeks recovering, and at one point weighed no more than 88 pounds. All this, and then Mother passed away.

Slowly I regained my strength. I attended the Woman’s Congress in Providence, Rhode Island, and gave speeches supporting women’s suffrage.

When I returned to Janesville, I settled my parents’ estate, and resumed my work. While I had been away my friend Kate Kane had become Wisconsin’s second woman lawyer, and soon after that Angie King became the third. I invited King to join me, and we became the first all-female law firm in the state.

In 1878 we took on an case involving a Janesville man who had often been in trouble. Tom Ingalls was accused of stealing from a tailor’s shop. The tailor had locked up for the night, and someone used a razor to cut a hole in the glass of the shop window, just large enough for a man to put his arm through. The burglar opened the window and stole about a hundred dollars worth of clothing. Tom claimed he had spent the night of the burglary drinking, too inebriated to cut such neat hole. I argued that Ingalls was too physically and mentally impaired to have committed the act as it was done. The jury disagreed and Ingalls was convicted by Judge Conger. We appealed the case to the Wisconsin Supreme Court.

I applied once again for the right to practice before the supreme court. This time I had Wisconsin law on my side. On June 18th I was finally admitted to practice . The court’s vote was 2-1, with Justice Ryan objecting. All summer and that fall we worked on the case, and in the end the court overturned Judge Conger’s decision. Victory was sweet.

But sometimes even sweet things can turn sour. Angela King and I dissolved our law partnership, and my cancer returned. I wanted to continue on, but finally no spa visit or nursing care could relieve my pain. On March 31, 1880, when I was forty years old, I was released from this life.

At the time I wished God had granted me more time, because there was much I still wanted to accomplish. Articles to write, lawsuits to run, and a world to generally straighten out. But none of us can say when our time on earth will end. Looking at what has been accomplished since 1880, I see that my efforts to change the way prisoners are treated, my articles and speeches and letter writing on behalf of women and the poor, all contributed to reform. I know that my fight to practice law before the supreme court effectively opened up the legal profession to Wisconsin women. For all these reasons, today I feel satisfied by my efforts.