Old New England Glassware in the Home - Part Four - "Good Luck With That"

Old New England Glassware in the Home

Part Four

"Good Luck With That"

            At 1750, in New England,  between ‘several’ and ‘numerous’ endeavors-to-make-glass had occurred, or were attempted and... ‘fell back’.  ‘Everything’ was ‘right’ ‘on paper’ at the tavern for that swell idea (make glass) to ‘happen’.  Men, money, rum, demand (for glassware), raw materials, location, rum again... money again (venture capital), demand again, rum again...:  In the morning it was a ‘go’. “Remember?”

            I am not writing about glass making in New England.  Or about how to make glass.  Glass is a metal best made by fire and chemistry.  In New England... and simplified to redundancy... glass required sand (as ‘on a beach’) and fuel to melt the sand (as in four foot logs burning twenty-four hours a day continually).  That; sand and wood, was ‘we have that.  Add ‘men’ ‘working’ with shovels and axes (include rum ration), carts, animals pulling the carts.... a ‘furnace’, a building(s)... a ‘the owners’, a ‘glass maker’ and... another small group of men from Europe who do not speak English who ‘know how to do this’ (make glassware with the glass metal)...:

            So we go down to the beach to see how this is going and notice that already they have ‘exhausted’ a considerable body of ‘fuel’ ‘near’ ‘the furnace’.  And... have only a small gathering of rather crude sort-of-look-like European glass bottles “Huh”.  As is famously said of venture capitalized commercial endeavor ‘launches’ in old New England:  “That’ll launch it but I don’t know how long it’ll stay up.” Meaning:

            Did you plan on walking down to the beach and buying some... empty bottles?  The makers actually had to load the ‘glassware’ into a cart (in the Midwest [Mantua] they actually loaded a canoe) and go door to door peddling... to a community that did not have any money or any real ‘need’ for ‘glassware’... although they did ‘like’ the ‘bottles’.

            So glass making in old New England at 1750 right on up to 1820 (1815) was... ah... ‘not doing well’.  One could ‘loose money’ ‘doing that’.

            Example?

            On the first page of the catalog of the ‘their collection’; the first item, #1, is a ‘snuff bottle’ ‘attributed to’ (being made at) the Germantown (Braintree, MA) glass... ah...’works’.  On the beach.  From there on no further mention is made of this... old New England glassware.  Just one entry; the number one... entry.  It’s easy to miss.

            The book; a reference book, too, makes it ‘easy to miss’ too.  Weighing ‘a ton’ this slip cased two volume set is

            Absolutely essential for one active with old New England glassware (this does NOT include ‘old New England glassware in the home’) to... ah... ‘be familiar with’ (memorize).  Don’t worry, I work with NO ONE who even has a copy let alone ‘has looked at it’.  That’s right:  Don’t worry... because I

            DO NOT CARE

            And

            Work with uninformed-by-choice idiots all the time too.

            The book is Ken Wilson “The Toledo Museum of Art American Glass 1760-1930, Hudson Hills Press, NY, 1994.  Good luck with that.

            IF... one should ever... ‘get serious’ about ‘old New England glassware NOT in the home... one WILL have to ‘contend with’ (confront?) this... book.

            MEANWHILE more adroit venture capitalists were ‘introducing’ old ENGLSH and IRISH glassware into the old... New England... HOME.  “WHAT IF” they said... “we stow away GLASSWARE made HERE and ship it OVER THERE... sort of quietly.... and when it gets there... we sell it... sort of quietly”

            “I like that idea.  Count me in”.

            “Done”.

            This ‘selling glassware’ was a naturally exclusive niche market.  It was not intended for the pioneer log cabin set’s domestic decorative impulse.  It was... best for and there found in the homes of, for example, the ruling merchant aristocracy who had ‘ventures’ (slave trading and sugar plantations) in the West Indies and... their ‘homes’ (estates) ‘in New England’.  Need to read up on that?  I recommend C. S. Manegold “Ten Hills Farm”, Princeton Univ. Press, Princeton, NJ, 2010.

            The tale told in this book... is a horrific... and... ‘one needs to know this tale’... of old, old New England that includes places... one never thought of  (today’s tourist islands) and... there at these places doing things one never thought of (slavery until death)... and... old houses in the Boston area one may visit, old oil paintings there too one may visit, words like ‘Harvard’...  LARGE ‘land holdings’ in old New England, places like the Royal River ( end ‘L’ dropped from the original spelling)  in Yarmouth (Maine) where there is, at the falls (and under –actually under- the interstate overpass on Route 88, a bronze plaque on a stone monument for a man who was killed and scalped ‘there’ while ...serving the interests of the land owner who... moved his operations to Boston so to avoid ‘further problems’....and... no mention of glassware ever.

            BUT:  I assure you that THESE PEOPLE did have GLASSWARE in their HOME in old New England.  The SLAVE always kept the glasses clean and the decanter FULL.  Got it?  And good luck with that (this book).

            FROM this slave-serves-master-using-glassware... in the old New England home, this import venture glassware from England and Ireland (“Anglo-Irish” from now on) but including too...  glassware from... Germany, Austria, ah.., Italy, Belgium... FRANCE and... ‘the Mediterranean region”...:  “Anglo-Irish”... GLASS... WARE... trickled down to become... glassware... in old New England homes...

            That

            I

            STILL FIND

            IN

            The old New England home.

            It’s, like, most times, all beat up and, like, ah... “WHAT’S THAT?”.  What does that mean?  It means that thrift shops, three day ‘estate’ tag sales and ‘yard’ sales are my best source for a perpetual “FIND THAT” ‘for nothing’ (no cost):  “ITS ALL CHIPPED”

            “Good luck with that.”

            There is an antiquarian market for “it” (Anglo-Irish glassware).  There are people who ‘like it’... know it.... love it.  There are ‘collectors’.  There are snotty ‘if you don’t know what that is then you wouldn’t know if you stepped in dog... poop... either’.  For this last, I say... there should be that attitude.  It goes back to the ‘those people’ and their... ‘juice glasses’... in their “MY” “OLD” New England home.  IF

            I have a ‘relic’ condition Anglo-Irish decanter set out for sale... no... one... ever... ah... “asks”.  IF I have six juice glasses set out full of JUICE the same THEY will take one (a juice glass) without comment and start sipping from it (“OH I THOUGHT THOSE WERE TO DRINK [for free]”).

            What is the net worth of Anglo-Irish glassware?
            I don’t spend a lot of time ‘helping people with this’

Source of ....

            Glassware in the old New England home.

            One is, with this first responder New England glassware,

A ‘there’ or... a ‘there-not’.  And:  On the own (of self and of possess).

            We move on to 1815.

My Antique Man

My Antique Man

            Yesterday morning I was called out by the secretarial staff of our antiquarian firm to be ‘needed’ to write an answer to a good and regular internet customer’s email query for a (price) “break” (“discount”) on his purchase of three items.  I have to do this sort of paddle-ball email-“price-for-me”-discount answering all the time.  I word processed, copied, pasted, clicked ‘send’ and... couldn’t stop thinking about ‘it’; what I tried to explain in the message.  Sort of.  My note is below:

“Thank you for your note.  We will not discount your three purchases.  Generally, our (internet sale service) listings are estate consignments of single items from single owners.  The sale proceeds, less shipping and our ten percent service charge, are returned to the consigning estate for distribution to the heirs.  For example, the funds from the (specific purchased item for $85.00), less shipping and our $8.50, are distributed from the estate to, in this case, four heirs.  Probably each heir will get about $15.00 from this sale.  Generally, we, acting for the estate, do not discount or accept an ‘offer’.  We do tell the estate about any ‘offer’. 

Further, and candidly, we add that a larger group of our consigners are older people; ‘seniors’, who we have professionally known and done business with often for over forty years.  Now aged and having moved to some status of senior living, their homes having been sold, their children caring for them but not caring about their ‘old things’ we broker items that they have clutched-to-the-end.  They have often smuggled their ‘old things’ to their new quarters and hide them away in boxes, etc.  For this growing group, we are often the ‘only people’ they can ‘trust’ or feel ‘care’.  Your purchase of the (specific purchased item #2) is a typical example.  It is from a woman in her eighties in senior living in Kennebunkport.  The proceeds of the sale, less our (often ‘flexible’ in these cases) commission and the shipping, will give her ‘a little money in her purse’ when she goes out with the other women at the living center.  We are confident you can sense the wholeness here.  We do add that we do garner truly ‘old estate’ items from ‘doing this.  The process is more light hearted than it sounds but ‘beating them down’ on price we do not do.  Thank you for your continuing interest and purchases.  Thank you.”  

            I first heard the words “the antique man” and “my antique man” before I was of any age.  Those utterances from my grandmother or mother referred to a man who came to the (farm) house in a pickup truck fairly often.  This was about 1960.  It was before that date and after that date.  In 1960 there still was an ‘antique man’ “around”.  Today they are called “DEALERS”.  This is short for ‘antiques dealer’.  Right here I require that the reader notice the title is ‘antique’ man,  It is not ‘antiques’ man.  It is crucial to understand this.  The former is an old New England occupational declaration.  The latter is its modern bastardization.  It is that simple.

            The expression ‘antique man’ with the personal attachment of ‘my’ or the title declaration of ‘the’ was a ‘once the way it was’.  I grew up to the title.  I became that title.  I remember it all very clearly.

            My first hearings were complicated by not being quite clear what an ‘antique’ man did and what was the ‘antique’ anyway.  The latter was defined soon; ‘antique’ means ‘old stuff’.  The former I did personally define after a while and still find it is ‘little known’ by “anyone” even though I have ‘gone on’ to be very,

            Very,

            VERY clear about what an ‘antique man’ does.  This brings us back to the email above.  That email is a very brief sketch of what an ‘antique man’ does.  This means the ‘once the way it was’ ‘antique man’.  It does not mean the modern bastardization, the ‘antiques dealer’ or the “DEALER”.  It is that simple.

            When the antique man came to the house he and my grandmother and mother spent the whole time looking at, moving, looking at again and... moving again ‘old stuff’.  Again and again.  The one would sell to the other or the other would sell to the one or the preferred state of one ‘swapping’  to the other or so... or more... or “maybe” or “OH GO ON with ME; USE ME RIGHT”... transpired.  The preferred result at the house was a few newly acquired objects went INTO the house and were displayed while the ‘pile of old stuff’ in the BARN was ‘reduced’.  This space was never ‘empty’.  What I just wrote out happened every time the antique man came in his truck.  Because my grandmother and mother were ‘active’ in gathering ‘old stuff’, the antique man did come often too.  He too was ‘active’.

            One, in a community, did not ponder an ‘active’ antique man.  He was there if one needed him.  Everyone knew him, knew of him and knew of a ‘some sort of’ dealings’ related to ‘old stuff’ ‘he did’.  Where he was ‘now’ was known so one ‘asked around’ and found him ‘quick’.  He (the antique man) was quick.  Right over, right there, this-that-and another then... gone.  In his truck.  “Appears to be a busy fellow”.  “Always up to something with all that ‘old stuff’ ‘he likes’.

            Our antique man always ‘come right along’.  For example, he ‘knew’ that my grandmother ‘had dealings’ with the local ministers who, too, I learned, were ‘active’ in ‘gathering’ ‘old stuff’.  But, I LATER configured from ...actual work experience... that these fellows had ‘difficulty’ bringing their ‘pig to market’... so to speak.  My grandmother was both friendly and understanding about ‘their difficulty’ so would ‘help them’.  Our antique man understood this never, ever, ever mentioned... source... of ‘old stuff’ and ‘helped’ my grandmother with her helping the ministers.  HE (the antique man) added the nuance that he always seemed to have a ...very large very old pewter ‘plate’ (charger; a serving plate or patter) tucked behind the seat of his truck.  When he ‘happened by’.

            “It IS a wonderful one (old pewter charger)”.  “See the London (English) hallmarks”.  Smitten, my grandmother ‘hauled that away’ to her ‘kitchen’.  The antique man would, too, ‘haul away’.  That always worked ‘fine’ ‘for everyone’.

            Occasionally an ‘old stuff’ was so old and so ‘therefore good’ that my grandmother and the antique man would make a pack that he’d “take it down to the coast and see what they say”.  The two of them would be sure to have a concise ‘plan’ before departure.  There was no text messaging... ‘back then’.  This ‘trade’ always seemed to work well for often times after the antique man left from his return visit to our house... from the coast... and finished the relation of the ...always more than just ‘interesting’ to ME... story of his travel tale to the coast AND... finished  the commercial settlement and distribution of the proceeds from... that trip to the coast... my grandmother would say something like ‘Can you BELIEVE he SOLD THAT (old what ever she ‘took off’ of ‘that old so and so’) (‘old crow bait of a minister’) for THAT!’.

            Later on I got to know

            A lot

            Of ‘old so and so old crow bait of a minister’

            Myself.

            That’s where I first heard the ‘antique man’ being used about me... to me.  These women... in their farm house kitchens, would say as to “HOW” “YOU  are”  “MARY’S BOY’ and are ‘becoming quite the ANTIQUE MAN”.  It may not seem so, but one DOES remember having these women stay that to ...you.  That up-graded to “YOU” ‘be a ANTIQUE MAN’.  That up-graded to “HEAR YOU’RE A PRETTY FAIR antique man”.  This is in the THEIR farm kitchen.  Farm yard.  Shed doorway.  Front doorway.  Front parlor.  Attic.  Barn loft.  Shed chamber.  Down cellar or... a... the whole... “my mother’s place she died you know’.

            “JUST WANT YOU TO LOOK at that FOR ME (a tall clock)
            “I’LL TAKE IT DOWN TO THE COAST and SEE WHAT THEY SAY".
           Of course today I have the cell phone.  The computer.  And.  They do too.

            “YOU CAN WATCH THE AUCTION IF YOU WANT.”

            “THAT’S ALL BUY-IT-NOW; they have to PAY that PRICE.  THEY PAY BY COMPUTER.”

            “Imagine that”.

            “I’ll bring the money by.”

            “Oh thank you.”

            I am, actually, sort of like the old milkman with my truck and the metal cage filled with glass milk bottles that I am about set outside the farm house door until just as I get to that door it opens and I am greeted with robust “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN WE HAVE TO TALK COME IN”.  Someone’s

            Been looking for a little money up in their attic?”

            “I’ll TAKE YOU UP THERE TO SEE IT.”

            “What about that CHEST we were SPEAKING ABOUT THE LAST TIME; the one UP ABOVE in the SHED.

            “HOW DO YOU remember THAT’S UP THERE”.

            “That’s my job.”

            “THAT’S RIGHT; YOU ARE MY ANTIQUE MAN.”

            Some days it’s Camden.

            Some days it’s Kittery.

            (“YOU ever go over to PORTMOUTH?”)

            (“Well... sometimes I SNEAK across the BORDER” [into New Hampshire]).

            Some days it’s Deering.

            Some days its Standish

            Some days it’s BOOTHBAY.

            (“Pretty closed up down there now?”)

            (“No.  It’s not like it used to be down there.  Plenty of people around.”)

            Some days it’s South Paris.

            Some days it’s “way up there you know” Milo.

            Some days it’s....:

            “When it gets a little warmer I want you to take me down (to her old house) and I want us to look around together.  Just the two of us.  I still have my KEY so I can let you IN THERE.  I know there are THINGS you want.  You’ve been in before I know.  But now.  Well.  They’ve moved me HERE and none of THAT’S gonna FIT.  Might as well let you SELL IT.  Be the BEST.  I guess.  Not that I WANT to sell it.”

            I look into a lot of eyes

            And those eyes look into my eyes

            Too.

            An antique man does not wear eyes on a cuff.  They are worn eye to eye.

            With all of the old in-town stops, the old farm kitchens stops and... the ‘please sign in at the desk’

            Senior living.

            Stops,

            There really is not a day that I, the antique man, am not ‘right out straight’.