Olive Peck

This wheel—made more than two hundred years ago—is a testament to the superb skills of Connecticut wheel makers in the late 18th and early 19th century.  It was made by Silas Barnum (1775-1828), one of a group of wheel makers from southwest Connecticut, who are most well-known today for their double flyer wheels. 

From this group, the most well-known are Solomon Plant, the Sanfords, the Sturdevants, and Silas Barnum.  The earliest, born in the 1740s, included Solomon Plant and Samuel Sanford, two men who likely were making wheels before the Revolution.  A second generation, born in the 1760s and 70s, arose with John Sturdevant, Jr., Isaac Sanford (Samuel’s son), and Silas Barnum, who, in turn, were followed by another generation, born in the 1790’s, including Beardsley Sanford (Samuel’s great-nephew), Elias Bristol Sanford (Isaac’s son), Josiah Sanford (Samuel’s son by his second wife), and John Sanford Sturdevant (John Sturdevant Jr.’s son). 

J. Platt appears to have been part of this group, too, but, as far as I know, no one has determined just who he was.  These men, and a few others, made wheels of a distinctive style, recognizable immediately as having come from a particular time and place in our history.   

For more on these wheel makers, see the previous posts: “Mindful Pond” (Solomon Plant); “Louisa Lenore” (Sanfords); and “Katherine the Witch,” “Mercy,” and “Judith and Prudence” (J. Platt). 

To help keep these wheel makers sorted out, in a previous post about Silas Barnum, “Big Bear,” I included a timeline, map, and family history that helps to understand how these particular wheel makers were connected.  All of them were from families that settled on the Connecticut shore in the 17th century and gradually migrated inland. 

Their family names are found repeatedly, along with Platts, Pecks, Smiths, Beardsleys, and others, in the history of this area.  Silas’s mother was a Sturdevant, his older sister, Sarah, married wheel maker, John Sturdevant, Jr.  Their son (Silas’s nephew), John Sanford Sturdevant (likely named after his Sanford grandmother) was also a wheel maker.  Silas married Martha Platt, although whether she was related to wheelmaker J. Platt remains a mystery. 

While there is ample evidence of family relationships between Barnum and other Connecticut wheel makers, we know little about their working relationships.  Did Barnum work with his brother-in-law, Sturdevant, Platt, or any others?  How well did these men know each other?  Was their wheel making competitive or cooperative, or a likely mix of the two?  We just do not know. 

We know that Barnum, the Sanfords, the Sturdevants, and likely Platt, worked in neighboring towns and their wheels share some remarkable similarities, so there was cross-pollination, but it would be fascinating to know more about the interplay of design influences, creativity, innovation, and marketing. 

Platt in the front (with new treadle), Barnum in the back

For example, in trying to determine how J. Platt fit into this group, I was struck by the remarkable similarities between Platt and Barnum’s great wheels (see “Big Bear”), which seemed to indicate some relationship between the two men.  But, when I found Barnum’s flax wheel, I was surprised by how different it was to Platt’s in the details.  

Was the difference one reflecting the time they were made or just the personal style of the makers? 

Barnum’s wheel is more finely and elaborately turned and has the small chip carvings dotted on decorative black bands so typical of these Connecticut wheels (but missing from Platt’s).

The spokes, also, are different.

Barnum’s spokes are more elaborate. He used the wonderfully-named “shotgun shell and olive” style, often found on Connecticut and Pennsylvania wheels of this era. 

Despite these differences, though, both wheels share the same overall look and excellent craftsmanship typical of this group of wheel makers.

Barnum’s fine work on this wheel is illustrated by the spokes. 

They rest up against the rim lip, with pegs cut perfectly flush with the drive rim. 

Who knew a spoke peg could be a thing of beauty?

Despite the wheel’s impressive age, not a spoke has a wiggle or gap, and the drive wheel is perfectly solid, straight and aligned.  The drive rim’s four parts have different patterns of shining ray flecks that glow in the sun. 

There are fine turnings on the maidens and distaff (the top part is missing). 

In contrast, the table is a bit more crude,

appearing to have been cut from an imperfect chunk of lumber, with one bottom edge at an angle and a concave area on the top.  

Perhaps Barnum chose it for the grain, which, as with the drive rim, has highly contrasting fleck.   

The table underside is smooth, without scribe marks. 

The wheel end legs stick up through the table. 

Each leg as a nail in the bottom, which is fairly unusual, in my experience. 

I often find one in the far-side leg, but seldom in all legs. 

The wheel shows considerable use,

but is in excellent working condition.

The treadle is almost worn through at the front

and right side edge and bar. 

The original flyer assembly is missing.  It came with a funky one that likely was made in the 1970s or so.  I replaced it with one that fits perfectly and has its own elegant style, well-suited to the wheel. 

The spinner-side maiden is pegged into the mother-of-all

but the far-side one only has small peg underneath,

which keeps it in the mother-of-all but allows it to turn for easy flyer removal of the flyer. 

The tension knob shows no signs of wear from being used for winding off. 

There is one unturned secondary upright support that runs to the table. 

This is a common feature seen on these Connecticut wheels.  There are chip carvings on both ends of the table

and deep double grooves down each side. 

It came with a rawhide footman attached to the treadle bar with a metal hook with a nut underneath. 

As I mentioned earlier, Barnum’s life spanned the period at the end of the first generation and beginning of the next generation of these Connecticut wheel makers. 

To some extent, this must have been a transition period.  His spokes and turnings are similar to Solomon Plant’s, but a little more refined. 

The olive and shotgun shell spoke was found on the early Sanford wheels and those of John Sturdevant Jr. and Solomon Plant.  But, the later Sanford wheels evolved to have simpler spokes and finials, which according to Pennington & Taylor’s book “Spinning Wheels and Accessories,” this evolution reflected the change in style to plainer turnings for furniture in the 1810s to 1830s (p. 81). 

 Barnum did, interestingly, venture into a style of double flyer wheel that the later generation of Sanfords embraced, with the wheel above the flyers rather than below.

Kelley’s wheel

In discussing this style wheel, Pennington & Taylor highlight one made by Elias Bristol (E.B.) Sanford, who was born 16 years after Barnum (p. 82-83).  E. B. Sanford apparently patented the wheel in 1816.  It had unusual metal flyers, but the tension system looks very similar to a wheel signed by Barnum, which was discovered languishing in a North Carolina junk shop by Kelley Dew a few years ago. 

Kelley generously shared photos of her wheel,

showing similarities to E.B. Sanford’s, even down to the unusual decorative black marks on the wheel post. 

There are differences in the wheels,

but enough similarities to indicate that one maker influenced the other. 

Elias Bristol would have been about twenty-five years old when his patent was granted, while Barnum would have been forty-one. 

Did the older Barnum first make his wheel and then Elias Bristol improved and patented it? 

Or did Barnum take from Elias Bristol’s design, possibly without the patented parts?  Who knows? 

The “N” on the stamp is worn down, possibly indicating this was a late wheel of Barnum’s

Fascinating to think about, though.    

The letters are crisp on Olive Peck’s Barnum stamp

I am still hoping to learn more about Silas Barnum. 

I knew that I had Barnums in my Connecticut family background and recently learned that my great, great, great, great grandmother, Hannah Barnum Baxter, was Silas Barnum’s older cousin. 

She married and moved to upstate New York before Silas was born, so likely never knew him.  But spinning on a wheel made by someone sharing a small part of my ancestry gives me a special thrill of connection.  

My great, great grandmother’s sampler. Silas Barnum was cousin to her grandmother, Hannah Barnum Baxter.

Thank you to Kelley Dew for allowing me to share her photographs of her stunning Barnum double flyer wheel.

For more information

Bacheller, Sue and Feldman-Wood, Florence, “S. Barnum and J. Sturdevant Double Flyer Wheels,” The Spinning Wheel Sleuth, Issue #31, January 2001 (and “Update” Issue #32, April 2001).

Pennington, David A. and Michael B. Taylor. Spinning Wheels and Accessories. Atglen, PA: Schiffer Publishing, Ltd., 2004, pp. 81-83.   

Louisa Lenore

Antique wheels present so many puzzles.  Connecticut double flyer wheels, for example.  Why was there a sudden surge in manufacture of these wheels in the late 1700s and early 1800s?  Was there a need for increased spinning production in that particular region at that time?  Or did they simply become fashionable—a personal advertisement of spinning prowess? 

These wheels, compact uprights with two flyers supported above the drive wheel, have been referred to as “gossip wheels,” based on a lovely, but mistaken, notion that two spinners could work side by side at one wheel, chatting as they spun.  For most double flyers, however, reality was much less cozy and serene—they were a means to increase production, not socialization.  One spinner, two hands, two flyers—double the product. 

Or almost double—apparently a good spinner could increase her production by about fifty or seventy-five percent.  I have great admiration for those spinners.  It’s not easy to spin with only one hand for each flyer—especially with flax.  Spinning a fine, consistent linen thread requires an even pull-down from the distaff (and very careful dressing of the distaff), a way to smooth out inevitable lumps and thicknesses, and a way to moisten the thread as it is spun. 

Tough enough with two hands, let alone one.  And once single-handed spinning is mastered—with right hand and left–then one must co-ordinate each hand to spin at the same time—but separately.  Despite that challenge, these wheels were very popular for several decades in Connecticut. 

Were all of the users competent with two flyers, I wonder?  Most double flyer wheels can be used with only one flyer, so perhaps they were considered versatile—with an option of using one or both flyers.  They also are compact and attractive, which may have contributed to their appeal. 

In any case, my double-flyer does not appear to have seen much use, so perhaps the wheel was more aspirational than practical for her owner. 

The treadle has no signs of use.

There is no maker’s mark, but the wheel bears the hallmarks of the Sanford family (see previous post “Big Bear” for more on the Sanfords). 

Sanford double flyers are characterized by cross posts supporting the wheel axle rather than upright supports favored by other area wheelmakers such as Silas Barnum, Solomon Plant, John Sturdevant, Jr., and J. Platt. 

The Sanford wheels also have a simple top table—with a straight angle corner cut.  In contrast, most of the other wheelmakers’ top tables have curved corners and half-rounds at the base of the maidens.  J. Platt’s wheels had the unusual combination of upright supports with a Sanford-like top table and L. Judson’s wheels shared the Sanford characteristics. 

My wheel has spokes characteristic of the early Sanford wheels—the later ones had simpler spokes—and the typical black bands with diamond chip carvings. 

Neither flyer appears to be original and the bird cage distaff looks as if it was made fairly recently.  A straight, truncheon-style distaff would have been more typical for these wheels. 

The distaff support assembly is absolutely beautiful and also likely not original to this wheel. The wood, finish, and rings are quite different than the wheel body and the really elegant turnings suggest that they came from a different wheel.

The wood on the wheel table is quite coarse-grained

and one of the tension knobs still has a bit of bark on it.

Although the flyers are not original, they fit and work nicely. The wheel is in remarkably good shape and a spinning beast. Now, I need to learn to keep up with her.

Update December 2020: Recently someone questioned me about the assertion that a spinner could not double production on one of these wheels. I thought it would be worthwhile to include here some sources for that contention. In her article “The Double Flyer Spinning Wheel” in Issue #6 of the Spinning Wheel Sleuth, Joan Cummer wrote: “Although sometimes used for spinning wool, the double flyer wheels were especially employed for spinning flax. A spinner could not double her single flyer production but if very competent could produce 150% to 175% of her single flyer yardage per hour.”

In Patricia Baines’ book, “Spinning Wheels, Spinners & Spinning,” (1977) she wrote that double flyer wheels were “mostly found where flax spinning was an industry, as it was thought of as a wheel essentially for helping the poor to earn more money and to speed up production although it could not actually double the output.” (p. 151). Baines cited H. E. Von Rettich’s Spinnradtypen, Vienna, 1895, for the proposition that “a spinning wheel with treadle produced 350 metres per hour and one with two flyers 498 metres per hour,” while noting that the validity of these measurements is necessarily dependent on the skill of the spinner.

And, a little book, “The Tale of the Spinning Wheel,” by Elizabeth Cynthia Barney Buel, quotes from an 1801 advertisement in a Connecticut newspaper, the Hartford Courant, by local wheel maker Joel Baldwin , saying “Two handed wheels are highly recommended to young women, as they can spin one third faster on them.” (p. 39) The book was published in 1903 and is a fascinating glimpse spinning and textile production. A free e-book version can be found here: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/58950/58950-h/58950-h.htm?fbclid=IwAR1TgJdVNGMxNgxaeHuk2MBD2Uh5wurV6D008O-FnGJcHYr6_bdxA64ZKXw.

An article in “The Journal for Weavers, Spinners, and Dyers” Winter 2020 from the UK, titled “A Window Onto the Linen Industry in Eighteenth Century Scotland,” by Hilary Miller, also discussed output from double flyer wheels in Scotland. The article notes that, according to the Old Statistical Account (OSA)–information from Scottish parishes–a spinner on a double flyer wheel could spin nearly one third more and of better quality than on a single flyer wheel, or near twice as much, but of a coarser quality. (p. 20).

Big Bear

Silas Barnum (1775-1825) was part of a group of Connecticut wheel makers working in the late-1700s to mid-1800s.  They spanned generations and had numerous connections–some clear, others more elusive. I like to refer to the early generation–Barnum, Samuel Sanford, John Sturdevant, Jr., Solomon Plant, and J. Platt–as the “double flyer boys,” because they are best known today for their distinctive upright double flyer wheels. 

These men and their wheels share many similarities.  With the exception of Plant, who lived a few towns away on the coast, they lived in neighboring towns in southwest Connecticut. 

Their families were early settlers in the area, with a web of interconnected family relationships. For example, Silas Barnum’s older sister, Sarah, was married to wheel maker John Sturdevant, Jr. 

This chart is the best I’ve been able to do in tracking the family connections. 

We don’t know whether some of these men apprenticed or worked for others or if the similarity in their wheels simply reflected what was in demand at the time. 

It’s doubtful that the similarities were just market driven, however, since Silas Cheney—who was working in the same time period just a couple of towns away—made wheels in an entirely different style (see previous post—”Sweet Cicely and Chancey”).  And, with all of the family ties, there must have been shared work and design tendencies to leave such a legacy of style. 

Barnum and Platt great wheels

I found my Silas Barnum great wheel, “Big Bear,” on Facebook. 

The seller, a spinner in New Haven, Connecticut, had recently bought it at an estate sale of her artist neighbor—a very old man at the time of his death. 

She believed that he had owned the wheel for many decades.  It’s a big, solid wheel, with a two-posted barrel tension system and lovely direct drive head.  It’s hard to tell if the head is original to the wheel, since they were so often replaced or interchanged. 

The style is right—many of Barnum’s wheel predated accelerated heads and these nicely turned spindle supports were typical of the time and region. 

The wood is lighter than the wheel itself and, interestingly, has the dark bands so prevalent on the flax wheels of this group of wheel makers. 

The wheel has a large crack in the table that was nicely repaired with pegs. 


The drive wheel rim is beautiful ray-flecked oak, with a generous 3 inch width, and a 41 ½ inch diameter.  

It’s a good spinner, with a wheel that invites the body to lean in and work with its heft, weighted so that the wheel comes to rest at a certain point. 

The spokes are set in a deep groove (similar to Platt’s great wheel)

There is a remarkable similarity to J. Platt’s great wheel (“Mercy” in previous post), although the Platt drive wheel has a larger 44” diameter and the rim is a smaller 2 5/8 inch width. 

I did a lot of research into possible connections between Barnum and Platt—digging into family trees and probate records.  As with most wheel makers, probate inventories reveal a lot (and give a fascinating glimpse into 19th century life). 

Barnum’s shows clearly that he was a wheel maker, referring to “timber in shop for wheels,” and “1 wheel part finished large.”   In my research, I found several J. Platt connections with Silas Barnum.  But none of their probate records showed a wheel maker.  The first was through Barnum’s wife, Martha Platt.  I had high hopes that her brother James might be J. Platt the wheel maker, but probate records showed that he was a city dweller and no craftsman. 

Platt and Barnum side by side

A Josiah Platt was another good possibility.  He married Sary Sanford, sister to wheel maker Samuel Sanford, but there is no evidence at all that he was a wheel maker or had anything to do with furniture making and the timing isn’t quite right.  There is a Joseph Platt that could possibly be our man—he had some connections with Barnum and appears to have done some furniture making—but the evidence is inconclusive. 

So, I’m still researching the Barnum/Platt connection.  Whatever the maker’s relationship, the wheels look like siblings—closely related, but with their own unique characteristics. More information can be found on Silas Barnum and his double flyer wheels in the Spinning Wheel Sleuth, Issues 31 and 32.

Sweet Cicely and Chancey

November 2020 update: It is starting to look as if these wheels were not made by Silas Cheney of Litchfield, Connecticut. In researching a possible link between Cheney and the Maine Shakers, it became apparent that there is no actual evidence that Silas Cheney made spinning wheels. It is more likely that these wheels were made by a different Cheney in Maine or New Hampshire. I will write a post at a later date with the new research. In the meantime, I will leave this original post intact, with this warning that it may not be accurate.

Original post:

These two beautiful wheels were made by Silas Cheney (1776-1821) in Litchfield, Connecticut.  Cheney came from a family of furniture and clock makers and, in his relatively short life, became a very successful and well-known furniture maker.  By 1800, at the age of 24, he was creating high-end furniture—with stylish veneers and inlays—for affluent customers in a prosperous economy.   According to the Litchfield Historical Society, which has some of Cheney’s day books, Cheney also did less glamorous, bread-and-butter work, including odd jobs, repairs, and making rake handles.  

Presumably, his spinning wheels fell somewhere above rake handles but below inlaid sideboards in his work spectrum.  As Cheney’s business thrived, he took on apprentices and specialists. 

One apprentice, Lambert Hitchcock, supposedly influenced by clock makers and his time working for Cheney, came up with the idea of using interchangeable parts for chairs—and went on to become famous for mass production of his popular Hitchcock chairs.  

CCCC marks on Cicely’s table and collar
Marks on treadle–notice how there is no wear on this treadle at all

One interesting aspect of Cheney’s wheels is that parts are marked—treadle, table, tension knob, collar, hub, and flyer assembly—on my wheels with an “I” and a “CCCC.” 

Whether the marks were for ease of assembly by multiple workers or some sort of mass production, who knows?  

Tension knob “I” mark on Chancey
Table and collar “I”s in exactly the same places as the “CCCC” marks on Cicely

At some point, I’d love to go through Cheney’s day books in detail to see if they shed any light on his spinning wheels. 


Even though Cheney did not sign his furniture, he did sign his wheels—with a tiny, hard-to-see stamp on the end of the table.   Chancey’s seller said there weren’t any maker’s marks on the wheel until I asked her to go back and look again–and showed her a photo of where the mark should be.

The style of Cheney’s wheels is entirely different from other Connecticut wheelmakers of the time.  For example, the wheels of Solomon Plant and J. Platt in previous posts show the typical style, with ornate turnings, black bands, and chip carvings. 

Solomon Plant wheel–with 16 ornate spokes

They look fussy and overdone compared to Cheney’s wheels, which have a sleek, minimalist look, highlighting gorgeous wood and design. 

Cheney’s 16 simple spokes and exquisite wood
Cheney treadle bar and foot

On the other hand, Cheney’s wheels have some intriguing similarities to wheelmakers farther north.  The scribing under the table of Cheney’s flax wheels and the chamfering of the leg holes are fairly unusual, but very much like the Morison wheels (in Vermont and upstate New York). 

Cheney under scribing for leg placement and chamfered leg openings
Morison scribes and chamfering

Even more interesting is the similarity to Maine Shaker wheels, particularly those made at Sabbathday Lake and Alfred Lake. 

Cheney maiden

The maidens have the same tops, but the SRAL’s are curvier down below. The maidens on the Sabbathday Lake wheels are even closer to Cheney’s in style.

Samuel Ring Alfred Lake Shaker wheel (SRAL)

the scribe lines for the collar are the same,

Cheney scribe lines on side marking collar placement
Alfred Lake scribe lines for collar

the spokes share a simple, sleek curve,

Only 14 spokes on the SRAL wheel, compared to Cheney’s 16, but the shapes are very similar

and my Alfred Lake wheel has scribe lines underneath—not the same as Cheney’s but similar. 

SRAL

Most striking, though, is the wood.

 The Alfred Lake and Sabbathday Lake Shaker wheels are known for gorgeous wood. 

SRAL table

On my Alfred Lake wheel, the table is stunning with high contrast ray flecks.  As are the Cheney tables. 

Sweet Cicely’s table–just amazing wood

From newspaper advertisements, we know that Cheney was selling wheels around 1800—about the same time the Maine Shakers started producing their wheels.  So, it’s hard to say whether the Shakers were influenced by Cheney or the other way around.  The Litchfield Historical Society has been very helpful in answering my questions and I’m trying to determine if any early Shaker wheel makers might have apprenticed with Cheney or if there was any other connection.  

Chancey–at first glance she looks like a Shaker

Cheney seemed to attract interesting connections—his daughter, Mary, while a schoolteacher in New York City, met and later married Horace Greeley, newspaper editor and politician of “Go West, young man!” fame.  Mary was a suffragette, spiritualist, and likely suffered from depression.  For me, learning these details about a wheel maker’s life imbues the wheel themselves with a rich, extra layer of appreciation and wonder.

Given that Cheney was a master furniture maker, I’m not surprised that the wheels are incredible spinners.  The first Cheney wheel I found, Sweet Cicely, was on Craigslist in southern Maine.  It had a big, clunky flyer assembly that didn’t fit or work with the wheel.  The really odd thing about the wheel, though, was that it was in pristine condition and looked as if it had never been used. 

When I brought Cicely home–no wear, so grease stains, she looked brand new

The wood is very blond, which is highly unusual for spinning wheels of the time.  It’s just gorgeous and had clearly never seen the inside of a barn or attic, but had been lovingly cared for since the early 1800s.  I’d love to know its history. Could it have been similar to the wedding wheels that we see from Europe—a status symbol wheel for a wealthy young bride who never actually had to use it? 

I had a flyer assembly made and Cicely started right up.  Because the new mandrel has a larger orifice than most antique wheels, this wheel is my go-to for plying.  The second wheel, Chancey, I bought recently from a woman in southern New Hampshire. 

Chancey’s “for sale” photo

Although one flyer arm was broken and the whorl and bobbin had been chewed by a dog, I was thrilled to see that the flyer was marked with a “I,” just like the other marked parts, so it appears to be original. 

Notice there is also an “x” on the bobbin

After repairs to the flyer assembly, this wheel has become one of my top spinners—an absolute delight. 

Even in this condition, she spun well.

It is darker than Cicely, has a higher, more tilted table, and lacks the flattened sides on the wheel uprights. 

Cicely’s wheel supports are flattened
Chancey’s are round.

The hooks on the flyer arm are tiny—smaller than any I’ve seen before—but they work beautifully. 

Aside from these two wheels, I’m only aware of two other Cheney wheels that have come to light. 

In contrast with Cicely, Chancey saw a lot of use

One is a great wheel in the Litchfield Historical Society’s collection and the other a flax wheel that Grace Hatton had and sold.  I would love to hear of any other Cheney wheels out there.

Mindwell Pond

Solomon Plant made beautiful wheels. He lived from 1741 to 1822 in Stratford, Connecticut. Florence Feldman-Wood, publisher of the Spinning Wheel Sleuth, has done extensive research on Plant, who fortunately kept good records. She wrote two fascinating articles (in SWS issues 31 and 39) about him, his wheels, and his customers.

Because I have an interest in the early Connecticut wheelmakers, I was thrilled when this wheel appeared on Craigslist in Massachusetts. It had been languishing there for some time, perhaps because both flyer arms were broken off. On a trip to see his brother, my husband arranged to pick up the wheel at the Dunkin Donuts near the Bourne bridge. So, we still refer to it as the Dunkin Donuts wheel.

The edge of the rim was badly chipped. Despite that, it held the drive band I was able to do a little spinning when I got her home–using the two hooks left on one of the flyer arm stubs. She’s fairly small and easy to lift, so once the flyer was fixed, she became my favorite for summer spinning flax outside on the porch.

The wheel has stripe and chip mark decorations on the turned pieces, with chips scalloped on the end of the table and double grooves down the sides.

Plant’s initials on the table end.

One of the most fascinating things about the wheel is that the table has a huge crater underneath, the remains of a knot.

The table is very short–only 15 3/4.” The 16 spokes and plump curves give his wheels a distinctive look.

This wheel was stained or ebonized, apparently early on, giving it a rich glow. The treadle is a replacement, and perhaps the distaff. As far as I know, there are few Solomon Plant flax wheels that have survived, so I feel extremely fortunate to have found this one.

Mercy

In researching my J. Platt flax wheel (in the previous post), I combed the internet for other Platt wheels. Only a few turned up–one double-flyer wheel, one other flax wheel, a tilt-table yarn winder/reel, two great wheels, and some phantoms that were auctioned to unknown new owners.

This Platt great wheel turned up on Facebook, with an owner in New York state inquiring if anyone knew anything about the maker. I just about jumped out of my seat with excitement and another Platt owner (in Massachusetts) also joined in to share information on her wheel and winder. Some months later, the owner of this wheel decided to sell and, thanks to the kindness of three volunteers, we quickly had a wheel railroad to eastern Massachusetts, where my husband picked it up to bring to Maine.

The two-posted barrel tension is almost identical to those found on Barnum, Sturdevant, and Sanford wheels. When the previous owner bought the wheel, it had a double-post direct drive spindle set up. Unfortunately, that was lost when sent for a repair. It had been replaced with a Miner’s head, which I replaced with a bat head, since this wheel likely pre-dated accelerated heads.

The spokes do not run down the rim center, but are slightly offset, by varying distances. They have an almost imperceptible flare at the rim end. The drive wheel diameter is 44 1/2″ with simple overlap rim joins.

The table is absolutely plain–no scribe marks, no chip carving, no grooves, no curved edges–with the J. Platt mark on the end.

The wheel post is very coarse-grained, perhaps chestnut.

The legs are simple with four sets of double grooves at the wide parts of the turnings. Again, as with other features, they are similar to other Connecticut wheelmakers of the time.

The leg tops show through the upper side of the table.

The underside of the table is smooth, without any scribe marks.

The wheel is simple, solid, and made to last. She spins beautifully and, because her replacement spindle is huge, she’s one of my go-to wheels for plying.

Katherine the Witch

This wheel started it all for me. When I was growing up, it decorated the corner of our Connecticut living room, with a messy, dusty hank of flax drooping from the distaff. Somehow, when I was sixteen, I got it spinning again (with wool). After I moved to Alaska when I was twenty, the wheel became decoration in my brother’s house. Through the years, a flyer arm, the footman, and the treadle broke. I brought it to Maine when I retired, had it repaired, and it has been spinning my homegrown flax ever since. It’s solid as a rock–a lovely smooth spinner–even though it likely was made in the late 1700s and saw a lot of use.

The original treadle was deeply worn.

And the distaff made from a sapling.

The table is quite short, only 16 3/4″ long, it has 12 spokes, and turnings typical for early Connecticut wheels. Every turned piece is adorned with sets of black stripes, but there are no chip carvings on the stripes, which were found on many of the early Connecticut wheels.

J. Platt, the wheelmaker, remains something of a mystery. Despite extensive research, I still haven’t been able to nail down who he was. His wheels share a number of features with Samuel Sanford, John Sturdevant, and Silas Barnum–wheelmakers from southwestern Connecticut in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, well-known for their double-flyer flax wheels.

My best guess for J. Platt, is Josiah Platt (1735-1804) from Newtown (married to Sary Sanford, sister to wheelmaker, Samuel Sanford), Connecticut or Joseph Platt (1741-1793) from Danbury, Connecticut but the research continues.

Side by side with a J. Platt wool wheel—the subject of the next post.