Betty M.

This wheel has the feel of a city-made wheel—sophisticated and finely finished. Not surprising, since it was made just outside of Philadelphia. I spotted it on Facebook Marketplace in Connecticut, where it sat for weeks and weeks, with the price lowered from $50 to $25 as the seller appeared desperate to just get rid of it. Although it did not have a spinning head, I had to rescue it—fine Philadelphia great wheels do not come along very often.

It is a solid heavy wheel, made by Windsor chairmakers, Benjamin Love, and his step-son, Isaac Whitelock.

Love, a Quaker, was born in 1747 in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. He married Eleanor McDowell in 1768 and they had ten children over the next two decades, several of whom died young. By 1780, when he was 33, Love was living in Frankford, five miles north of Philadelphia, where he was admitted to the Frankford Preparative Meeting (Society of Friends or Quakers). Their Frankford meetinghouse was built in 1775-76 and now is the oldest surviving Quaker meetinghouse in Philadelphia.

Records show that Love was a Windsor chair maker from 1781 to 1820.

He also took care of and did repair work on the Frankford Meetinghouse, according to the Meeting’s minutes. His wife, Eleanor, died in 1793, and, two years later, in 1795, Love married Elizabeth (Smith) Meharry Whitelock (1752-1829).

Love’s new wife, Elizabeth, had been recently widowed and left with several children, including a son, Isaac Whitelock (1778-1848). In addition to their sizable combined clan of children, the couple took in the daughter of widower, John Davis, who later married Elizabeth’s daughter, Mary Whitelock. In his autobiography, Davis describes Benjamin Love as a “respectable” Quaker Friend. Davis also noted that Isaac Whitelock, Love’s stepson, was in business with Love. (p. 33)

Isaac was about 17 years old when Love married his mother, so a prime age to be trained into Love’s chair and wheel making business. In 1807, when he was 29, Isaac married Ann Woodcock Marot (1785-1865) a Quaker from Delaware. Her uncle Davenport Marot (also spelled “Mariott” and “Marott”) appears also to have been a chair and spinning wheel maker in Philadelphia (from 1771-1829).

Love & Whitelock’s shop was large enough to have an upper loft or attic, called a “cockloft,” where an apprentice may have slept. (Evans, p. 9) By 1818, a few years before Love’s death, it appears that they also expanded into lumber sales, because Love is described as a “Lumber Merchant” in one document. At the time of Love’s death in 1821, Whitelock was described as a “Spinning Wheel & Chairmaker.” At some point later in his life, Isaac Whitelaw gave up chairmaking altogether and focused on dealing in lumber and hardware, running a lumberyard in Frankford from at least 1837 on. (Evans p. 84, fn. 147)

The wheel itself is sturdy and well-made, with a straightforward design of few embellishments or fancy turnings. Its an attractive wheel and I am surprised that there do not seem to be many that have survived. I know of one in the Mercer Museum in Doylestown, Pennsylvania, and have seen another one for sale in St. Louis, but compared with some other makers, Love & Whitelock wheels seem to be hard to find.

This one is in excellent condition. The wide drive wheel rim is undamaged, without any cracks or chips. The two-piece rim is neatly joined.

The spokes gently widen as they near the rim, decorated with burn marks midway and near the rim end.

They are firmly attached to the rim with screws.

The hub has intact metal bearings on both sides.

The axle is threaded on the wheel side

and held in place on the other side with folded over metal pieces.

The wheel sits on the axle at an angle, giving more room for the spinner’s arm to turn the wheel.

The table is made of heavy-grained wood,

with grooves down each side, and tall rolag holders.

The barrel tension has a screw for tightening on the non-spinner side.

The wheel came without a spinning head.

I found this direct drive head for it because it is similar to the head on the Love & Whitelock that was for sale years ago in St. Louis. The legs are simple and heavy.

All of the posts extend well below the table and are pegged in place.

The table’s underside included a surprise. The names “Betty Megargee” and “Franklin Lewis” were carefully carved in large squared-off letters, along with the date “1934.”

After some on-line research, I found a Betty Naomi Megargee (1911-1995) who married Benjamin Franklin Graves Lewis (1908-1967) in Philadelphia in 1939. I wonder if this wheel may have been an engagement present. If so, it would have been given in the depths of the depression, which might help explain a five-year engagement.

In the 1930 census, when Betty was 18, she was listed as a Stenographer at a bank and Franklin Lewis as an apprentice electrician. From what I can tell, this Betty and Franklin did not have any children and always lived in Pennsylvania. So, if this wheel belonged to them, I have no clues as to how it ended up in Connecticut. I wish I could confirm that Betty Naomi was the owner of this wheel and that we knew more of her and Franklin’s story.

References:

U.S. Gen Web Archives Philadelphia Wills for a copy of Benjamin Love’s will, witnessed by Isaac Whitelock “Spinning Wheel & Chairmaker.”

Ancestry.com for genealogical research on the Love, Whitelock, Marot, Megargee, and Lewis families, and minutes from the Frankford Preparative Meeting 1772-1794.

Maryland Historical Society, Volume 30, Issue 1, Baltimore, 1935, Autobiography of John Davis.

Evans, Nancy Goyne, Windsor-Chairmaking in America, From Craft Shop to Consumer, University Press of New England, London, NH 2006.

The Pamphlet of the Historical Society of Frankford, Pennsylvania, 1912.

Woody Hill and Rose

On August 25, 2022August 25, 2022 By BrendaIn antique spinning wheel, great wheel2 Comments

A few years ago, I wrote about two distinctive flax wheels, Julia and Jerusha. They are part of an instantly recognizable family, with vase-turned legs, painted rims (usually), star/sunburst/flower stamps, secondary upright supports, and distinctive chip carving. Speculation was that these wheels were made in Connecticut or Rhode Island. Some are unmarked, some marked with the initials JC, IC, or SC.

I am besotted with these wheels and always on the lookout for them. So, my eyes lit up when one came up for auction last September in Rhode Island. The auction was a benefit for the Babcock-Smith House Museum in Westerly. (https://www.babcocksmithhouse.org/). I thought perhaps the museum would have some background on the wheel, but put off contacting them because I was busy and did not have high hopes of getting a response.

I finally shot off an email about a week before the auction. What I thought would be a fruitless email turned out to yield a rich harvest. We still do not know who made these wheels, but what a pleasure the hunt has been.

The museum referred me to one of their trustees, Ellen Madison, who, despite knowing little about spinning wheels and having a packed schedule preparing for the auction, unhesitatingly gave her time and attention to my questions. Ellen found not just one, but two, wheels from the museum’s attic coming up for auction.

*Second auction wheel from attic, for which someone had made a new distaff post*

The one in the auction photo had a “JC” stamp and the other “IC.”

When I explained to Ellen that I “rescued” old wheels, she mentioned her family’s great wheel for which she wanted to find a new home. When she sent me photos of her wheel, I was intrigued.

It was four-legged and tensionless–unusual features for New England great wheels. My interest in the wheel skyrocketed, however, when Ellen wrote that her brother had found initials on the wheel–not just any initials, but a “JC” stamp.

Could this great wheel be by the same maker as the flax wheels? At this point, I decided that I needed to go down to the auction myself and bring home Ellen’s great wheel to add to my collection.

Knowing I would be in Rhode Island, I checked out wheels for sale and did a double take when I saw a great wheel in North Stonington, Connecticut—a town bordering Westerly–that looked identical to Ellen’s. It also had a “JC” maker’s mark. Things were getting exciting. On the day of the auction, a friend, Sue, joined me and Ellen kindly showed us the wheels in the Babcock-Smith house.

*Babcock-Smith House great wheel, unmarked*

There were two wheels on display–an unmarked great wheel looking just like the two “JC” wheels, and an unmarked flax wheel with a family resemblance to the ones from the attic, but with simpler maidens and spokes.

We then perused the auction lots and, to top off the house’s wheel treasure trove, I found a reel with a “JC”—a huge surprise since reels are not often marked.

I bid on the two flax wheels for my friend, Tina, who, like me, is fascinated with these wheels. Sadly, I was outbid, but did win the reel. So, I set out for home the next morning with Ellen’s great wheel, now named “Woody Hill,” and the reel, which I named “Rose.” In the meantime, Sue picked up the North Stonington wheel for Tina. Some months later, Ellen contacted me about a gorgeous wheel that she had spotted at a friend’s house, marked “SC.”

Her friend’s father was a third-generation scrap metal and junk dealer in Westerly, who had an eye for antiques. He had picked up the wheel years earlier, likely in Westerly. When Ellen’s friend decided to sell the wheel, it happily found a home with Tina.

This cluster in Westerly and North Stonington–three great wheels, four flax wheels, and one winder—could not be coincidental, could it? Eight within a ten-mile radius. It seemed as if we were homing in on the area where the wheels had been made. Surely we could track down the maker or family of makers. Ha.

*Woody Hill’s beautiful hub* *and bearing*

I, and others, spent the next months pursuing every imaginable avenue. There were plenty of likely candidates, namewise, around Westerly and North Stonington—Clarkes, Chapmans, Congdons, Churches, Culvers, Chesebroughs, and more. Some had ties with the Babcock family, some were weavers, some carpenters, but I could not find any definitive links to spinning wheels. I read and read about early Rhode Island, searching for clues.

I dove into different aspects of Rhode Island history, learning about its furniture, weavers, coastal trade, plantation system and slavery, town histories, and early industrialization of spinning and weaving. With Ellen’s help, I tracked down people who might provide leads. I contacted museums, historical societies, authors, professors. All fascinating, but I have not been able to find our wheel makers.

I thought the wheels themselves might provide clues. The flax wheels do not look like other New England wheels. They are more festive, colorful, and elaborate. In fact, the decorative stamps and secondary upright supports running to the legs are features associated with Pennsylvania wheel makers. Similarly, the great wheels do not resemble other New England wheels. With the exception of a small cluster of wheels from the Narragansett, Rhode Island area, four-legged wheels are rare here.

They are usually found in Canada, and very occasionally in the south. Even more unusual is the lack of a tension system, something uncommon even in the south.

*No mechanism for adjusting the drive band’s tension*

But we know that the great wheels have been in the same families for generations and likely were made in the area.

*The spindle support is wedged in place under the table*

Were the wheel makers involved in Rhode Island’s vibrant coastal trade and influenced by wheels in other areas? And, when were the wheels made?

There has been some thought that the flax wheels may have been produced during the nation’s centennial in the 1870s. The decorative nature of the wheels supports that theory. But most of the flax wheels show heavy use, which likely would not have been the case for centennial celebration wheels, especially in Rhode Island, where industrialized spinning overtook home spinning fairly early in the 1800s.

Also, the great wheels in particular, look much older than the 1870s. My thinking, based on the wear, the wheels’ histories, and the area history, is that the wheels likely date from the late 18^th century to early 19^th century—but it’s just speculation at this point.

We are fortunate to have some history for Ellen’s wheel, Woody Hill. Ellen lives on land that had an 1857 house belonging to Abby Burdick, one of Ellen’s ancestors. In 1819, Gideon Burdick, Abby’s grandfather, was granted a pension for his service in the War of the Revolution, and listed “2 old spinning wheels” as part of his household goods when applying for the pension.

Could those wheels have been passed on to Abby (who lived until 1906) and could one be Woody Hill? In any case, by the early 1900s, Woody Hill was hanging from the rafters of a corncrib on the same land, then belonging to Ellen’s grandfather.

*The corncrib in the background–Woody Hill’s home for decades*

In Ellen’s memory, and the memory of her aunt, born in 1908, the wheel was never taken down from its perch in the rafters. It even survived the legendary 1938 Hurricane, when the corncrib was blown aloft–picked up off its granite posts and landing several feet away. In the 1970s, Ellen rescued the wheel from its corncrib perch when she built her home. Her brother made a bat head for it out of an oar

and her father did an expert job at replacing one of the spokes.

*The replacement spoke–beautifully made*

It graced her antique-filled house for decades and now I am honored that her family has entrusted me with this wonderful wheel. If only I could figure out who made it.

So many questions remain unanswered. We do not even know if the great wheels were made by the same “JC” as the flax wheels.

While it appears that the JC mark is the same, at first look, I would not have guessed that the great wheels were made by the same hand as the flax wheels. In contrast with the flax wheels’ elegant turned legs and spokes, the great wheel legs are simply chamfered.

There are no decorative stamps and the spokes are plain.

The wheel and spindle supports are turned but are huge and heavy, seemingly built for strength rather than beauty.

Their wood is fairly coarse grained,

possibly chestnut, with beautiful oak on the drive wheel rim.

In looking closer at Woody Hill and Rose, however, similarities with the flax wheels start to emerge. Rose, the reel, seems almost like a transition piece.

Her table and legs are much like those on the great wheels—almost rustic in feel.

But the upper part was crafted with great precision,

attention to detail,

and an eye for beauty.

There are dark decorative bands,

similar to those on the flax wheels, and traces of dark paint (much like the paint on Jerusha) applied selectively,

*The lower half of the arm bars were painted with a dark paint*

*while the upper side was left unpainted*

which must have made a lovely contrast with the wood.

The reel has a delicate, finely-made handle for turning the arms.

As with the great wheels, the uprights extend way below the table, with large wedges holding them in place.

All have grooves running down the sides of the tables.

The reel and flax wheels have slightly chamfered underside edges, while Woody Hill’s are pronounced.

All have some form of chip carving on the ends, with variations.

Whoever the maker was, Woody Hill was made to last.

Aside from some wood-boring beetle damage, its massive posts and sturdy legs survived decades in the corn crib quite nicely.

A few spokes were loose,

with extra nails on the rim and hub showing previous tightening repairs.

All it took to get it spinning was stuffing some wool around the clattery spokes and finding a bat head that fit.

In no time, Woody Hill was spinning again, with a smooth, easy cadence. Although the posts are massive, the wheel itself is not that large, with a 43 inch rim diameter and relatively small table, 5 3/4 inches wide and 41 1/2 inches long. Its size, weight, and four-legged stance give it a sturdiness that provides a good anchor for spinning.

This is no tippy, band-throwing, temperamental wheel, but a solid legacy of endurance and hard work from those who made and used it.

I am taking a break on researching these wheels for now. Perhaps the next step is a visit to the Rhode Island Historical Society. I would like to read the Westerly store accounts of Rowse Babcock, which are housed there. In the 1790s, he was a commission agent for textile outwork, exchanging store goods for spinning and weaving. Perhaps he also sold spinning wheels.

Thank you so much to Ellen Madison for her interest, enthusiasm, generosity, photographs, and help on this journey.

Theodosia Bunce (Dosia)

On February 25, 2022February 25, 2022 By BrendaIn antique spinning wheel, great wheel5 Comments

This wheel invites questions. I would love to be able to sit down with its maker and ask why he constructed it the way he did. Why this way, why that–what are the reasons behind his design? Fortunately, in this case, we know something about the maker.

He appears to have been thoughtful and innovative–a build-a-better-mousetrap kind of man. So, his wheels perhaps can tell us something about 19^th century ergonomics in designing great wheels for greater ease and efficiency in spinning.

The most striking feature, at first glance, is not the wheel design, but the dark red paint on the table. It does not run the whole length, but ends in a graceful curve near the spindle end, topped by and highlighting the maker’s name,“E. Spencer.”

It is a nice touch by this intriguing man. On some of Spencer’s wheels, his name in the stamp runs straight across. On others, such as this one, the name roughly follows the curve of the paint. Elizur Spencer was born in 1779 in New Hartford, Connecticut. Around 1803-04, he moved to Sandisfield, a western Massachusetts town on the Connecticut border, with his wife Mary (called Polly). According to this wonderful article by a local Sandisfield historian: Elizur Spencer of Sandisfield., Mass., and His Remarkable Apple Parer, Spencer was: “the most skilled artisan-woodworker who ever lived in Sandisfield and probably for many miles around.” (p. 2).

The article goes on to say: “By all accounts Elizur, a humble man and a helpful and generous neighbor, was a wonder. Town historian George Shepard in 1885 remembered him as a prolific, first-rate craftsman who made important things to improve everyday life. Shepard wrote that Spencer made ‘spinning wheels, quill wheels, reels, swifts and paring machines.’ He added that Spencer ‘used a small stream to the south to power his turning shop.’” (p. 3)

Spencer’s house, a dam and small reservoir, and remnants of his shop still stand. After his wife’s death in 1822, in addition to his wheel and tool making, Spencer farmed and raised his three teenage daughters. The “paring machine” referred to in the article was an apple parer, which could be used right- or left-handed, an innovation that must have been fairly unusual for his time.

Spencer’s great wheels likewise have unusual design features. Aside from the red paint, the thing that immediately stands out is the mismatched legs. The spindle-end leg is beautifully turned, sleek and rounded, with a well-balanced design.

In contrast, the wheel-end legs are chamfered, a leg style often associated with early or relatively primitive wheels because they could be made without a lathe.

Why would Spencer chamfer the wheel-end legs rather than turn them? Perhaps the answer lies in this photo.

The spinner-side leg is much shorter than the back-side leg—only 16 1/2 inches compared to 19 1/2 inches—making it difficult to match turnings on those legs in a way that would look good. It is pure speculation, but perhaps chamfering was an easier and more visually appealing way to deal with the three-inch difference in leg length. As for why the wheel-end legs have differing lengths, it is a feature seen on some great wheels.

It is generally assumed that the spinner side leg is shorter and tucked a bit under the table to better keep it out of the way of the spinner. Spencer’s wheels appear to reinforce that theory because the whole wheel appears designed to allow the spinner to easily and smoothly move back and forward while spinning. The legs are set in the angled undersides of the table.

The table narrows as it approaches the wheel end–a good feature for long skirts, giving them a little more room and less of sharp end to catch against. Interestingly, both sides of the table narrow, but the spinner’s side narrows more.

Did Spencer narrow the spinner’s side to accommodate the spinner and then narrow the other side—but less so—to provide a balanced look to the table? I do not know, but am really intrigued by his decisions balancing utility and beauty.

Another apparent spinner accommodation is Spencer’s tilted drive wheel post. And, it is almost absurdly tilted. Again, the theory is that a tilted post or a tilted axle moves the upper part of the drive wheel away from the spinner, giving more room for the spinner’s arm and shoulder to move with ease. It seems as if it would cause problems with the drive band, but it works.

Everything about this wheel seems to be spinner-conscious, designed to provide for free movement of legs and arms. But it makes for an oddly lovely lopsidedness when viewed from the end.

Does the long dancer-like leg on the non-spinner side provide compensation for the weight of the drive wheel tilt?

And, what about the wheel post—chamfered along its length with a turned top? Was that an aesthetic choice, combining the chamfering from the wheel-end legs, with the lovely turning on the leg and posts on the spindle end? Underneath the table, the edges are beveled.

Everywhere, even under the table, the quality of workmanship is impressive. The wheel is, as the apple-parer article described, “exquisite.”

Many wheel makers put chip carving on table ends.

But, on one end, Spencer put this personal flourish on his wheels.

It is actually this particular detail that captured my heart. I admire that unique touch—a signature of a little extra beauty.

Spencer made flax wheels, too, but I have only seen photographs of one of them. I would love to know whether his flax wheels had any innovative touches.

He also made accelerated heads, complete with his label (he had a similar label on his apple peelers). Mine looks as if it could be made by him, but without the label, I can’t be sure.

It is missing the accelerator wheel and whorl, so I use it as a direct drive.

The wheel has the double upright barrel tension that was typical for Connecticut and upstate New York great wheels.

The tension tightening handle has smooth curves that feel good in the hand.

The top of the spinner-side post has dents that look as if they may have been made by the spindle end, but I do not know the reason why the spindle would have been hit against the post–perhaps to help remove it from the bearings?

The axle is threaded on the end,

with a smooth-edged old nut that looks handmade.

The backside of the axle is flattened and hammered into the upright post.

The hub is hefty, with the spokes perfectly fitted into a wide groove.

Brass bearings are fitted into both sides of the hub.

The only flaw I have seen on this wheel is that the bottom of the upright post shows where the wheel rim scraped against it. I cannot tell if the groove is from wear or whether it may have been carved out to give the rim some extra room.

At some point, someone added a few layers of leather and canvas, apparently to hold the hub out far enough so that the wheel clears the upright.

The drive wheel rim is tight, without loose or wobbly spokes.

The wheel-end legs are flush with the table top

but the spindle-end leg protrudes above it. I wondered if it had eventually worked its way upward, but it is painted on its side, indicating that it probably was that way originally.

Some Spencer great wheels have the same protruding leg-top as mine, and others are flush. It seems odd to have it protrude. Could it have been intended as a rolag holder? That is how I use it. Because, I use this wheel a lot.

It is an amazing wheel for spinning, elevating the spinner’s dance to something very graceful and almost effortless. If I could meet with Spencer, after grilling him about his design choices, I would thank him for making such an exquisite machine.

For more information on Elizur Spencer, follow the link to this article:

Bernard, Ronald, “Elizur Spencer of Sandisfield, Mass., and His Remarkable Apple Parer,” published in the Apple Parer Journal, January 8, 2017.

Thanks to Miranda for finding this article and making it available on Ravelry.

Experience (Prance)

On September 29, 2020April 21, 2021 By BrendaIn antique spinning wheel, great wheel, Maine spinning wheelLeave a comment

Most wheel makers remain a mystery. Even when they mark their wheels, leaving names or initials, it can be difficult to determine who they were or to find any details about their lives.

That is not the case with Marlboro (or Marlborough) Packard. He marked his wheels and lived in a town–Union, Maine–with an unusually well-documented history, allowing us to get a small glimpse into his life.

Marlboro was born in 1763 in Bridgewater, Massachusetts. According to DAR records, he served as a private in the Massachusetts militia during the Revolutionary War. At some point after that, he moved to Maine, joining his uncles, Micah and Benjamin, who had been there as early as the 1770s.

His uncle, Benjamin, in fact, has a role in Union’s early history. Initially called Stirlingtown, Union was born in controversy. A group of Scottish men first claimed possession but, soon after, a Massachusetts man, Dr. John Taylor, bought the land, despite the previous claims. After some dispute, Taylor prevailed, and in 1775, Marlboro’s uncle, Benjamin, worked with Taylor’s indentured servants to clear the land and cut lumber for Taylor. History of Union, Maine, pp. 27-39.

That year, Benjamin Packard built the first permanent house, a log cabin, in what would become Union. The next spring, in 1776, the Robbins family moved into the cabin and their story was the basis for the novel “Come Spring.” The foundation of the house built by Benjamin is still intact near the shore of Union’s Seven Tree Pond.

It’s unclear whether Marlboro came to Maine right after serving in the militia, but the 1790 census shows that, by then, he had joined his uncles, living in Cushing on the coast. That same year, he married Mary Ann “Nancy” Blackington. They had seven children, all of whom lived to adulthood–no small feat in those days. According to his children’s birth records, Marlboro appears to have been living in Union in the early 1790s, then moved to nearby Warren and Thomaston, and eventually returned to Union by 1803.

He lived the rest of his life in Union, on a farm on Clarry Hill, at times serving the town in positions such as selectman. He died in 1846, days shy of his 83rd birthday. Marlboro’s descendants still live in and around Union. His oldest son, Nathan, named his first son (born in 1828) “Marlboro.” This namesake grandson became a well-known master shipbuilder in Searsport, Maine, clearly inheriting his grandfather’s design and woodworking skills. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marlboro_Packard.

As noted in the previous post about Marlboro’s flax wheels, “Clarry,” his wheels are well-designed and attractive. And, as with his flax wheels, Marlboro’s great wheels are immediately recognizable as his.

He used a double-nut tensioning system–a somewhat unusual design found primarily in wheels from New England and New York. The wheels are sturdy, with some lovely turnings and scribe marks, and his signature “MP” stamps.

The hub is particularly nice, with brass bearings in both ends.

The axle has square base, holding the wheel away from the upright, and nuts to tighten down each end.

My wheel originally came with a Miner’s head, but I replaced it with an old bat head, new spindle, and new cornhusk spindle bearings.

As with his flax wheels, Marlboro’s great wheels show no influence from the Shakers. For example, the top of the spindle support is hefty–flat, wide, and collar-less–in contrast with Shaker wheels, which generally have slender, curving uprights with a collar.

Interestingly, a few wheels have turned up that look almost identical to Packard’s, but with the initials “MS.” It is not known whether MS may have worked with Marlboro, copied him (or the other way around), or whether the similarity is coincidental.

Thanks to some friends who spotted her, I found my great wheel in the front window of an antique store in Liberty, Maine, two towns away from Union, where it had been sitting for a long time.

According to the store owner, it had belonged to a Liberty woman, Ida Quigg McLain, who lived in a old square farmhouse with a huge central chimney.

Whether that chimney is responsible, I’ll never know, but the spinner side of the wheel is badly blackened and charred,

likely from being too close to an open fire or hot stove.

The charring doesn’t affect the wheel’s spinning, though. She spins beautifully and I love that she’s a local girl—made from trees one ridge over from where I now live, by a man with one of my all-time favorite names—Marlboro Packard.

For more on Marlboro Packard and the history of Union, see the previous post “Clarry,” and these books:

Sibley, John Langdon, History of Union, Maine, originally published in 1851, reprinted by New England History Press, Somersworth, N.H, 1987.

Williams, Ben Ames, Come Spring, Houghton, Mifflin Co., Boston, 1940.

Update December 2020: Last month I picked up a Packard great wheel in Nobleboro, a nearby town, for my friend, Susanne. The seller had found the wheel at the Waldoboro dump. Its drive wheel did not appear to be original, but the rest of the wheel was lovely and had some interesting differences with my wheel. My wheel is on the left in the photo below.

Susanne’s wheel had a slightly daintier feel than mine. The tension screw supports were smaller overall and fit up snugly against the table–in contrast to mine and another wheel of Susanne’s, which have a significant gap between the supports and the table.

Susanne’s on the left, mine on the right.

In addition, the ball at the top of the wheel post is flatter on Susanne’s than on mine.

The legs are much the same.

Intriguingly, Susanne’s wheel had a “VII” inscribed on the table, the front tension screw support and the wheel post–something I have not seen on other Packard wheels.

It is hard to say whether the numbers were for disassembling the wheel for transport, used because apprentices or others were helping with assembly, or for some other reason.

The VII is very faint in the photo–easier to see in person.

It would be interesting to know whether Marlboro Packard changed his wheels slightly over the decades of production or whether he changed things up from wheel to wheel. It was a treat to be able to compare these wheels side by side.

Mag Reiver and a Finger

On July 22, 2020June 8, 2022 By BrendaIn antique spinning wheel, great wheel, Maine spinning wheel2 Comments

Around the time that I picked up Polly, the Thomson bobbin winder in the previous post, I also bought a Hannibal Thomson great wheel.

It’s funny how related wheels often seem to come out of the woodwork in waves. None in sight for years and suddenly three pop up within weeks of each other.

This wheel was for sale in Waterboro, Maine—about sixty miles south of Turner, where Thomson made his wheels. Just as with Thomson’s flax wheels and bobbin winders, the Shaker influence is obvious in the overall design.

*The spokes are flush with the hub, marked in place with three scribe lines*

It could almost be mistaken for a Shaker wheel with its pewter collar, clean lines, and beautiful wood.

But it has Thomson’s imprint, too, in the collar’s scallops,

his signature spokes,

*The spokes don’t run down the center of the rim, but are spaced from side-to-side, presumably to angle the rim to help keep the drive band on*

the fine decorative scribe lines,

and the table-top maker’s mark.

The nail pattern on the drive wheel join is the same with this wheel and Thomson’s bobbin winder.

Over time, this wheel has acquired its own particular oddities—missing bearings, surface scratches, and a strange leg. It’s fairly common for old great wheels to lose their hub bearings. This one was bearing-naked front and back, leaving a gaping hole around the axle and no support for the poor drive wheel.

The original front bearing appears to have been six-sided where it met the wooden hub, which is not unusual for this time period. New bearings can be made from various materials, including metal and plastic, but I’m always in a hurry to see how a new wheel spins, so usually just fold some sturdy leather in there and give it a go. The leather works great, which invariably means that I leave it in and new bearings plummet to the bottom of the wheel-repair priority list.

Without looking carefully, it’s not obvious at first that there are fine scratches over many parts of the wheel. The close-up photos really make them apparent.

I’m guessing that someone had a vigorous sandpaper workout on this wheel to clean it up at some point and that’s what left the scratches. If anyone has other theories, I’d love to hear them. I kind of like the scratches—they are subtle to the naked eye and are part of the wheel’s history—remnants of some person’s time and attention on the wheel. I view them as fine wrinkles on a beautiful face.

The strange leg is more of a mystery. First, a matter of terminology. I believe it’s fairly standard to refer to the legs on the right side of wheel (facing the wheel from the spinner’s side) as the back legs. I just don’t get that. Since great wheels look like magnificent herd animals ready to go bounding down hill wheel first, the legs on the wheel end should be the front legs, right?

So, since what seem to be front legs to me are back legs to most, I will refer to great wheel legs as the “uphill side” and “downhill side” legs. With the downhill side legs on this wheel, the spinner side leg is about an inch longer than the far-side leg and it splays at a slightly different angle. In some wheels, such leg differentials are purposeful, to make more room for the spinner to walk back and forth. I believe that is the case here, since Thomson’s bobbin winder has a similar leg, but the difference in this case may be exaggerated due because the leg does not seem to be set properly in its hole.

There is an unstained portion of the leg showing below the hole, which indicates that it once was more deeply set. On the other hand, the leg hits the floor at the proper angle, the table isn’t askew, the leg is clearly a Thomson leg, and the leg is tightly wedged into its hole. In any case, it gives the wheel a distinctive look.

The wheel has scribe marks for setting the angles of the spindle support and a peg to keep it from pulling out. Some Shaker wheels have similar marks and pegs.

In comparing this wheel to my other great wheels, the table is quite narrow—only a little over five inches wide—

and the drive wheel is high and wide of the table, especially in comparison to the Connecticut wheels (previous posts “Mercy” and “Big Bear”), where the drive wheels ride directly over the table, with little clearance.

Despite the differences, the height of the hubs is fairly consistent with all the wheels, with only about an inch differential.

This wheel came with an accelerated head made by Fred B. Pierce & Co. Accelerated heads were first manufactured in the early 1800s to increase spinning efficiency and output.

They are often referred to as “Miner’s heads,” because Amos Miner had an early patent on the design. Miner and others manufactured these wildly popular heads through the 19^th century, with the Pierce family in New Hampshire dominating the market from about 1850 to 1900.

As an example of their output, Benjamin, the father, oversaw the manufacture of more than 60,000 heads in 1865 and many heads that we find today have a Benjamin Pierce label. Benjamin’s son Fred took over the business and the heads with his label were manufactured between 1882 and 1890.

That means the head on this wheel is relatively new compared to most. That may be why the corn husk bearings are still in good shape.

As a bonus, this wheel came with a wheel finger, also sometimes called a wool finger, wheel boy, or wood peg.

These were used to turn great wheels and bobbin winders, placing them on the spokes and giving greater reach and a break to hands, I guess, which must have gotten pretty stiff, achy, and arthritic over time.

Some great wheels will show wear on the spokes from use of a wheel finger, but this one doesn’t. The finger itself, however, has a good deal of wear, creating a lovely curve where it goes from the hand-holding hefty part to the narrow neck that hugs the spoke.