Jack

On December 5, 2020May 29, 2021 By BrendaIn antique spinning wheel, Maine spinning wheel2 Comments

These unusual wheels occasionally show up for sale and most people seeing one for the first time think it is a hilarious Frankenwheel—an assortment of wheel and reel parts cobbled together by someone who has no idea what they are doing.

In fact, it is a cleverly designed wheel and reel combination patented in 1871 by George Hathorn of Bangor, Maine. It can be used as a spindle wheel, a reel, to wind bobbins (or quills) and to ply, by rearranging the parts in different configurations. Hathorn was born In Lincoln, Maine in 1842, and married Phebe Nute in 1870, a year before patenting this wheel.

His marriage is important to the wheel because John Henry Nute, who appears to be his wife’s brother, had patented a similar wheel in Nova Scotia in 1870, a year before Hathorn’s patent. Whether the two men shared their ideas or one lifted the invention from the other, we don’t know. But the competing patents must have made for some interesting family dynamics.

Both men’s wheels were designed to be clamped to a table top or bench when in use—making them relatively portable and easy to store. Nute’s wheels, commonly referred to as “hurdy” wheels, had distinctive drive wheels, painted red with black half circles.

In his patent application, Hathorn notes that the purpose of his invention is the “production of a simple, cheap, and easily operated hand spinner,” in which the spinner can face the wheel while spinning and move the drive wheel “with but little motion of the shoulder.” (Better views of Hathorn’s patent documents are here: https://patentimages.storage.googleapis.com/99/2b/62/eb9628797193c8/US121517.pdf). Great wheels, of course require constant shoulder movement, so this must have been considered easier on a hard-working body.

Hathorn produced his wheels in Bangor, Maine area for several years and appears to then have moved on to other types of manufacturing. He died 1909.

Hathorn’s wheel has a triangular base with a series of holes that allow for different set ups. My wheel came with a homemade stand attached through a hole in the middle of the base.

The drive band passes over two pulleys and the spindle whorl.

Both of the pulleys on mine were damaged over time.

One was repaired, and the other needs to be. Unfortunately, one side of the damaged pulley is so degraded that the drive band falls off and I haven’t been able to spin very much on this wheel. It’s on the list of repairs for this winter.

Many patents were lost in patent office fires, so we are fortunate to be able to see Hathorn’s.

As the patent drawings show, it was designed to have a spindle head with a removable guidewire (part I) used for reeling off the spindle onto the reel. My wheel came with a cobbled-together spindle head that I replaced with a working one.

The short height of the one I’m using contributes to the band falling off the upper pulley, but it should work once the pulley is repaired.

If not, I’ll use a taller spindle head.

The reel has dowels along its upright and two on the bottom.

When used as a reel, the bottom ones fit neatly in holes on the base.

Each reel arm has a series of holes for different skein sizes,

and one has a metal spring holder to guide the thread (part a in figure 5 of the patent drawings).

The patent does not show the reel counter, but they seem to be on most of Hathorn’s manufactured wheels.

When the reel is turned clockwise, the screw moves along the rotating cog,

which has a partial spiral that increases in elevation and then abruptly drops.

A spring wire moves over the elevating spiral and then falls off the cliff with a thwack, acting as a counter for rotations of the wheel.

When using the reel for winding bobbins or quills, it is turned to be laid flat on the base, again inserting dowels into holes. On mine, however, one of the dowels is too tight a fit to get into the hole—but I’m not likely to use this as a bobbin winder, so probably will leave it as is.

The reel is designed to fold up, which Hathorn points out “is of great convenience in packing for transportion.”

For plying, Hathorn shows in Fig. 7 how the drive band can be crossed, which will cause the spindle to reverse direction. The spindle post can be moved to different holes for plying and to change tension.

I am looking forward to repairing this wheel and putting it through its paces.

*The spoke with the handle is much thicker than the others.*

Update May 2021:

Cathy Turner in New York posted an amazing photo on Facebook of her great-great-aunt Becky Briggs using a Hathorn wheel in the 1800s. It’s the only photo I’ve seen of the wheel in use in its heyday. Cathy kindly gave me permission to include the photo here, along with her description of Aunt Becky.

Cathy wrote:

“Here is the photo of Aunt Becky Briggs. She was born Rebekah Young, (December 15, 1812 to February 21,1919) , and married Benjamin Winslow Briggs. They lived on the Briggs farm in the original homestead house on Sumner Hill, East Sumner, Maine. They were the last family to live in the house built by Revolutionary War soldier, John Briggs.
Aunt Becky was known as a spinner. This was mentioned in my Grandfather Carl Briggs childhood journal of 1896. He and his father ‘took shearings to Aunt Becky so that she will spin them, April 12’ . Aunt Becky’s husband was Carl’s father’s Great Uncle.
Family stories remember Aunt Becky as a kind but serious woman. She would shoo the boys from her kitchen with her broom when she was baking, or when she had just finished scrubbing the floors.”

So many things are notable about this photo–the pencil rovings used on spindle wheels in Maine in the late 1800s, the basket swift (also commonly used in Maine), the bench for mounting the wheel, the cat, and Aunt Becky’s beautiful spinning. Thanks Cathy for allowing me to share it here.

Update March 2021:

After writing this post, I was contacted by Nancy Hood from Nova Scotia about two similar wheels that she has had for many years. One is a Nute wheel, mentioned in the post, and the other is a wheel patented by Lucius Bishop from New Minas, Nova Scotia. In this photo, the Bishop wheel is assembled and the Nute unassembled behind it on the table. It shows the distinctive black and white paint on the drive wheel.

Bishop patented his wheel is 1874 and it has the unusual feature of an L-shaped base.

There is an article about Bishop’s wheel in Issue #26, October 1999 of the Spinning Wheel Sleuth, entitled Bishop Tabletop Patent Wheel, by Nela Davis. Thank you Nancy for sharing these wheels.

My references for the history of Hathorn’s and Nute’s wheels, and the relationship between the two are below. They are the result of wonderful research and provide much more information than I included here.

Bachellor, Sue and Feldman-Wood, Florence, “The Hathorn-Newt Connection,” The Spinning Wheel Sleuth #43 (October 2004).

Feldman-Wood, Florence, “George Hathorn and His Patent,” The Spinning Wheel Sleuth #43 (January 2004).

Lonergan, Donna, “John Henry Nute’s Handspinner,” The Spinning Wheel Sleuth #43 (January 2004).

Probst, Dean, “Restoring a Hathorn Spinning Wheel,” The Spinning Wheel Sleuth #43 (January 2004).

Books:

Pennington, David A. and Michael B. Taylor. Spinning Wheels and Accessories. Atglen, PA: Schiffer Publishing, Ltd., 2004, pp. 110-13.

Phoebe

On November 13, 2020 By BrendaIn antique spinning wheel, Antique textile tools, flax wheel, Maine spinning wheel2 Comments

Phoebe is my gateway wheel. She is not the first wheel I brought back to spinning life. That was Katherine the Witch, the family antique that I somehow managed to get spinning when I was a teenager. It is Phoebe, though, that led to my retirement addiction to antique wheels. Although I prefer to think of it as a love affair.

When we retired, I had not done any spinning in decades and had no intention of taking it up again. Until, one afternoon, I spotted Phoebe in an antique store in Union, Maine. According to the store owner, she had belonged to an elderly woman in the neighboring town of Appleton. The wheel had all her necessary working parts but had obviously been stored in a barn or attic for many years.

She was grime-black and bespeckled with bird or bat poop. I did not buy her, or even seriously consider buying her. We were house hunting–nearing the end of our year of travel–and had no place to put her. Over the next weeks, though, I could not get her off my mind. The poor filthy thing was crying out for a rescue.

So, I returned to the store and the owner agreed to store her for me until we had a house. Little did I know that she would open an entirely new world to me—a happy obsession progressing from flax wheels and tools to great wheels and tape looms, bringing an added advantage of wonderful friendships with like-minded antique wheel addicts.

As soon as we settled into our house, I brought Phoebe home and cleaned her up. No easy task. But, under all the crap, she was a beautiful little thing.

She does not have a maker’s mark but appears to be typically New England. Her maidens and the upright support suggest a Connecticut influence, while the simple spokes have a Maine Shaker look to them.

She is made with a variety of woods.

Some parts appear to be cherry, with a red glow, while the table and treadle support are a coarser grained oak or chestnut, perhaps.

The table has gouges in the middle, which, as mentioned in an earlier post, are speculated to be from a knife (or fork) used to guide or separate the drive band at the cross, perhaps for plying.

There are scratch marks at various places.

It is hard to tell whether they were deliberate or not.

Two legs are quite red and appear to be made of cherry, while this one is light, perhaps maple or apple wood.

The treadle appears to be a replacement and the distaff supports are missing, although a partial bird-cage distaff was propped in the support hole.

There are crossed scribe marks under the table for positioning the legs,

similar to those on other northern New England wheels, and an interesting three-dash chuck mark.

Phoebe provided a good education in getting a wheel up and running again.

Many of her joints were very loosey-goosey, so I learned to shim the mother-of-all (clarinet reeds make great shims) and wrap joints with linen yarn.

Her whorl was stuck and the flyer hooks—those that were not missing—were severely rusted. At that time, I used WD-40 to loosen the whorl and fine sandpaper on the hooks. I now use a rubber strap wrench for stuck whorls and abrasive cord for rusty hooks.

What an amazing feeling it was to get her spinning again. I was hooked.

Her bobbin is a little short, giving her a low chatter, unless I wrap a little wool around the mandrel. And, interestingly, the wear marks on her orifice and flyer arms indicate that the spinner brought the thread around from the underside of the orifice hole. It still amazes me to see wear marks from thread–likely linen–on metal parts.

I always like to follow the thread marks on a flyer, to try to interpret how previous spinners worked with the wheel. Was the orifice threaded this way to slow down the uptake, to change the amount of twist, or to accommodate flax vs. wool? Even though it is not that long ago, we are ridiculously ignorant about spinning methods in the 18^th and 19^th centuries. At least these old wheels can give us some clues, if we can understand how to read them.

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.

Clarry

On September 11, 2020December 6, 2020 By BrendaIn antique spinning wheel, flax wheel, Maine spinning wheelLeave a comment

Marlboro Packard, born in Massachusetts in 1763 into a family of carpenters, moved north to Union, Maine where he produced attractive, well-engineered spinning wheels, found throughout the midcoast to this day.

Marlboro, also spelled “Marlborough,” was “a natural mathematician. He excelled in the solution of mathematical problems and in the use of mechanical tools. He could make anything from a boot-jack to a wagon wheel, from a window to a spinning wheel and in construction of the latter, he was a past master. All spinning wheels in the locality having the letters ‘MP’ carved on the end of the body are the work of Mr. Packard.” Soldiers and Sailors of Lower St. Georges Maine, p. 51.

Marlboro was born in Bridgewater, Massachusetts, in the same part of town (now Brockton) as the wheel-making Thompson family (see previous posts “Polly and a Skarne” and “Mag Reiver and a Finger”).

Multiple generations of Thompsons (also spelled “Thomson”) were well-known wheel-makers in Bridgewater.

While the Packards were carpenters, I couldn’t find evidence that they made wheels while in Bridgewater or that they worked with the Thompsons.

But it does appear that the two families were related. Marlboro’s aunt, Joanna Packard (his father Nathan’s sister), had a daughter, Jennett Allen, who married wheel-maker John Thompson. John and Jennett were wheel-maker Hannibal Thomson’s parents.

That makes Marlboro and Hannibal first cousins once-removed.

Both Marlboro and Hannibal ended up in Maine making spinning wheels, but they are a generation apart and their wheels reflect that.

Marlboro’s wheels were similar to those made by the earlier Thomson generations, based on a traditional Scottish-style wheel, while Hannibal’s wheels show the strong influence of the Maine Shakers on wheel styles in the early and mid 1800s.

Marlboro’s father, Nathan, died in 1772, when Marlboro was only nine years old. It’s unclear when Marlboro came to Maine, but his uncles Micah and Benjamin apparently moved to Cushing on the midcoast in the 1760s.

They worked as carpenters and appear to have done well. I couldn’t determine how long Marlboro stayed on in Bridgewater or whether he learned wheel-making skills there before coming to Maine.

But eventually, Marlboro joined his uncles and by 1795 must have been well established in his trade, because the Maine Historical Society has copies of payment invoices to Marlboro for turning work, including banisters, for Montpelier, the mansion being built in Cushing by Henry Knox, George Washington’s former Secretary of War.

In the 1790s or early 1800s Marlboro moved to Union, about 15 miles inland up the St. George River from the coast, and settled on Clarry Hill, the top of which is now blueberry barrens with a magnificent view.

The Packard farmhouse still stands and Marlboro’s wheels appear with regularity in antique stores and barn sales throughout the area.

In the Maine State Museum, one of Marlboro’s wheels serves as the example of a typical Maine flax wheel.

Marlboro’s flax wheels are easily recognizable.

Aside from his doubled initial stamps on the table end, the turnings are somewhat unusual in their generous proportions. There is nothing skinny or delicate about these wheels, they are plump and ripe-looking.

My wheel has a replacement treadle.

Marlboro’s treadles have a distinct notch such as this one found by a friend in Searsport. Here is her wheel and the treadle.

On my Packard wheel, the back side of the drive wheel has black marks, which look somewhat like burn marks, but in odd patterns.

It also has gouge marks on the table, which remain something of a mystery.

They are usually attributed to the practice of sticking knives (or forks) in the table to separate or guide the double drive band, perhaps when plying.

My wheel has a quirk shared with another of my Maine wheels, in that if the whorl is tightened fully, it tends to pinch the bobbin so that it doesn’t turn freely, so I need to back it off slightly. Once that is done, she spins fast and sweet.

I was delighted to be contacted this week by a woman seeking information about her beautiful Packard wheel bought in New York state. It is complete with a full distaff and in amazing condition. It is satisfying to see that Marlboro’s wheels have been cherished and maintained so that they can continue to spin for us two hundred years later.

The wonderful quote on Marlboro is from:

Miller, Frank Burton, Soldiers & Sailors of the Plantation of Lower St. Georges Maine, Who Served in the War for American Independence, Genealogical Publishing Co., 1999.

Update December 2020:

I recently ran across this old photograph for sale in eBay. According to the seller, it was taken in 1914 and is from a photo album belonging to the Fountain and Sproul family from Round Pond and Sproul Hill in Bristol, Maine. The back of the photo identifies the woman knitting as Margy Johnson. What caught my eye was the swift behind Margy Johnson and, of course, the spinning wheel, which is a Marlboro Packard wheel. Bristol is about thirty miles from Union, where the wheel was made. It is hard to tell from the photo whether the wheel was still in use. The treadle appears quite worn, the footman is attached and there appears to be a drive band. It felt like I met an old friend when I recognized this wheel.

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.

This finger spent a lot of time in someone’s hand.

For more information on Hannibal Thomson, see the previous post, “Polly,” and the references there.

My resources for information on Pierce accelerating heads:

Ramer, Alvin, “Accelerating Wheel Heads: A Comparison,” The Spinning Wheel Sleuth 54 (October 2006).

Polly and a Skarne

On July 11, 2020June 8, 2022 By BrendaIn antique spinning wheel, Antique textile tools, flax wheel, Maine spinning wheel7 Comments

This attractive bobbin winder was made in Turner, Maine, by a man with the wonderful name of Hannibal Thomson. Unraveling the who, where, and when of Thomson’s wheels illustrates why many of us are addicted to rescuing these old wheels. There’s the thrill of the hunt—for the wheels themselves and to discover the wheel makers. And there’s the collaboration with other antique-wheel addicts, railroading wheels to new owners, sharing knowledge and research, and getting ridiculously excited about discovering a wheel’s origins.

My Thomson journey started at a Maine antique store, “Den of Antiquities,” where I spotted a Shaker-like flax wheel with an un-Shaker-like maker’s mark in large letters on the table. The mark had been worn to oblivion on one end but enough was there to make out, “Thomson.”

I knew nothing about Mr. Thomson and brought the wheel home in anticipation of a history hunt to find the maker. I found references to three Thom(p)sons in Ravelry’s Antique Spinning Wheel group, J. Thompson, T. Thompson, and H. Thomson. All the table stamps were in the same style, although the spelling varied. A wheel making family, perhaps? My wheel matched those of H. Thomson. I had found my maker.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t seem to discover exactly who he was. My on-line research found many H. Thomsons who had come to Maine from Massachusetts, but I couldn’t find any references to wheel making.

I did find, however, another H. Thomson wheel owner on Ravelry who lived not far from me in Maine. Jan had an H. Thomson bobbin winder (like the subject of this post), and flax wheel, but the drive wheel was not original.

*Jan’s Thomson great wheel, and bobbin winder, reunited with my flax wheel (which I passed on to Jan)*

She had been looking for an H. Thomson great wheel and when one became available at a large “wheel rescue” that I was helping with in Massachusetts, we arranged a wheel railroad.

I drove a number of wheels that Jan had been fostering down to their new owners who were also at the rescue and brought back the Thomson great wheel for Jan. In the process, I got a chance to spin on the great wheel and it was love at first spindle click. As with the flax wheel, the Thomson great wheel was a beautiful spinner, well- balanced and designed for effortless spinning. I was hooked.

*The maidens on the bobbin winder and flax wheel are almost identical*

Some months later, a Thomson bobbin winder came up for sale in New Hampshire. It was a long drive, so I decided to combine it with it a trip to see Craig Evans, a wheel and textile collector, historian, and weaver, who lived in the same area and was selling some of his collection.

I picked up the bobbin winder and a large skarne that the seller desperately wanted to unload (“take it! take it!”) and headed to Craig’s. While admiring some of his amazing collection (and picking a few things to bring home), we talked about wheels and wheel makers, including H. Thomson. Craig recalled seeing a Thomson flax wheel in an antique store in Alfred, Maine years earlier, but didn’t know anything about Thomson himself.

About a year later, I heard from Craig that he had discovered the identity of H. Thomson. During that year, I had acquired a Thomson great wheel and passed my flax wheel on to Jan, to complete her Thomson collection. I excitedly contacted Jan with the news and she and Craig collaborated on a fascinating article, with Craig’s research and Jan’s wheels, titled “Hannibal Thomson and His ‘Widely Known and Sought For’ Spinning Wheels.” The Spinning Wheel Sleuth #107, Oct. 2020.

The title quote was from a book on the history of Turner, Maine, the town where Hannibal lived and worked in the early to mid 1800s. The description of Hannibal brings him alive: “Mr. Thompson was a good mechanic, and his spinning-wheels were widely known and sought for. He prosecuted his business for many years, and being remarkable for ready wit, his shop was an agreeable place in which to spend a leisure hour.” French, pp. 87-88.

Hannibal died at age 79 in 1861, but not before seeing his wheels become obsolete: “He lived to a good old age, but in the last years there were few calls for his work, as in the change of customs, spinning-wheels, carding machines, and fulling-mill, all went down together and became things of the past.” French, p. 88.

What would Hannibal think if he could see how we value his work today? His wheels once again are spinning, while we marvel at his skill and thoughtful design.

Hannibal’s name in his lifetime was spelled in a variety of ways, with his last name spelled both “Thomson” and “Thompson.” Craig found that Hannibal came from a family of wheel makers. His great-grandfather, Archibald Thompson, emigrated with other Scots-Irish in the 1720s from Ulster, a center of Irish linen production.

Archibald settled in North Bridgewater (now Brockton), Massachusetts, and was reputed in local histories to have made the first treadle spinning wheel in this country—or New England. Others, however, have credited the Scots-Irish who settled in Londonderry, New Hampshire in the early 1700s with that distinction.

In any case, Archibald’s descendants (called “his posterity” in one history) also made wheels. Given the similarities in the style and placement of the makers’ marks, it’s likely the wheels marked “J. Thomson” and “T. Thompson” were made by family members, although that hasn’t been established yet.

As for the winder itself, it’s a little beauty. Its overall look is similar to Shaker wheels, which isn’t surprising because Turner, Maine is not far from the Maine Shaker colonies and Hannibal’s wheels were made in the heyday of Shaker wheel production. The Shaker style influenced many local wheel makers.

These bobbin winders were used by weavers to fill bobbins, which were then placed on a skarne (or creel) (photos at the end of the post) for winding warps onto a warping board or reel, or directly onto a loom’s sectional beam.

The bobbins often were filled from skeins on swifts. But, in my case, I usually tuck the winder right next to my great wheels and unwind from the wheel spindle directly onto the bobbin.

The winder’s legs are slightly offset and the mother-of-all is angled—features that presumably make for ease of use.

There is a similar Thomson winder in Pennington & Taylor’s book, with slightly different maidens and a spindle tip, which would allow it to be used for winding quills or even spinning. P. 29, Fig 2-33. Quills were inserted into a weaver’s shuttle, which carries the weft across the warp. This one doesn’t have a spindle tip, just a long metal rod with a whorl.

The rod on my winder is pretty thick, so may have been rather large for quills. Its axle is wooden, which I keep well lubricated because I use the winder all the time. It’s a marvelous tool.

I hadn’t planned on buying a skarne when I picked up the winder, but they are very difficult to find, and the owner wanted to get rid of it.

So, home it came.

It has holes for 10 crossbars, so would hold at least 20 bobbins, more if they were smaller. Once I get additional crossbars in, I’ll put it to good use.

My resources for information on Hannibal Thomson and bobbin winders:

Cunningham, Jan and Craig Evans, “Hannibal Thomson and His ‘Widely Known and Sought For’ Spinning Wheels,” The Spinning Wheel Sleuth 107 (October 2020).

Feldman-Wood, Florence, “Bobbin Winder Basics,” The Spinning Wheel Sleuth 36 (April 2002)

Taylor, Michael, “Londonderry, N.H. Flax Wheels, The Spinning Wheel Sleuth 48 (April 2005)

Books:

All Sorts of Good Sufficient Cloth: Linen Making in New England 1640-1860, Merrimack Valley Textile Museum, North Andover, MA 1980.

French, W.R. A History of Turner, Maine, From Settlement to 1886, Portland, ME: Hoyt, Fogg, Durham, 1887.

Pennington, David A. and Michael B. Taylor. Spinning Wheels and Accessories. Atglen, PA: Schiffer Publishing, Ltd., 2004, fig. 2-33, p. 29.