Torvi

Simply put, I love this Swedish wheel.  Metal clad, with a long and rounded waist, it is utterly unique.  To top it off, it is one of the most pleasurable wheels for spinning that I have ever used. 

The table, if you can call it that, is unusual from end to end.  There is a good-sized hole in the wheel end, perhaps where it was mounted on a lathe. 

Each end of the table top is cut flat, making room for the wheel posts and mother-of-all.  Likewise, the whole length of the table bottom is flat. 

But between each flat end, the table top narrows and rounds to a caterpillar-like middle, making it easy to pick up and carry. 

The wood is nicely turned but knot-ridden.  Several areas still retain some dark bark. 

The sides of the flat sections have multiple grooves. 

But most interesting is the galvanized metal neatly covering the table at the flyer end. 

Its spangled surface gives the wheel a slightly festive look. 

Unlike the familiar silver of modern galvanized steel, this metal is a golden greenish color. 

The mother-of-all sits atop the metal and is tightened in place with an under-table wooden screw. 

Two keeper pegs flank the tension screw. 

A distaff hole is on the spinner’s side, but the distaff has been lost. 

Scribe marks are found throughout, most utilitarian, but some appearing to be decorative. 

The maidens have three-tiered tops. 

The leather bearing is a sandwich of four thick layers, cut in a distinctive style. 

The flyer is relatively petite, perfect for flax. 

Two maker’s marks are embedded in the table end along with several star/sunburst/wheel stamps. 

Another maker’s mark, on the table top, is easier to make out. 

It appears to be “A P J S” or “A upside-down-G J S. “

The drive wheel has six sections/felloes with radial joints. 

The joints are unusual in that each felloe has either mortises or tenons on its ends, rather than one on each end, which seems to be more common. 

Moreover, the tenons do not extend all the way into the mortise, but instead butt up against a second small piece of wood. 

Each joint is pegged.  The spokes, however, which straddle a small step on the inside rim, do not have any visible pegs and likely are pegged through the outside of the rim.  We cannot tell for sure, though, because the rim is encased in more galvanized metal.  

The axle arm for the footman is straight rather than curved or S-shaped

and the axle caps appear to made from “masur,” a curly birch found in Scandinavia and Russia, including some areas of Sweden. 

The treadle is encased in metal, which has started to rust.

The foot-side treadle bar has one metal-encased end and rests and pivots in a cross bar, also partly encased in metal. 

One pivot pin is covered by a small, rotating wooden piece. 

Thick metal wire attaches the footman to the treadle bar. 

The elegant pointed feet extend through the cross bar. 

Variations on this drop-in style of treadle are often seen on Finnish wheels. 

The non-spinner side foot has a nail embedded in the bottom, something often found in Quebec wheels. 

It seems with so many unique features—the turned table, the galvanized metal, the masur wood, the initials–we should be able to find out where this wheel was made.   But I have not been able to find its maker or town of origin, although I think we are getting close.  The seller of my wheel bought it in Dalarna many years ago when she lived in Sweden. Dalarna is a traditional province (landskap) and administrative county (län) in central Sweden with a rich cultural tradition of handcrafts. 

A Dalarna maypole at Sätergläntan

There are about a dozen of these wheels of which I am aware (I am sure there are plenty more in Sweden) and many have some association with Dalarna.  I first learned of them on Ravelry where Sheila MacIsaac, who lives in Scotland, started a discussion about a likely Swedish wheel that she had recently bought.   Sheila’s wheel appears older than mine, with rusted metal and no metal at all on the treadle. 

The initials on her wheel are slightly different, too. 

They appear to be “A G J S(backwards).”  Another wheel on Ravelry came over to the U.S. from Stöde, Sweden (north of Dalarna) where it was given to the owner’s great-grandmother in 1894. Its maker’s mark is similar to mine but the second letter appears to be a backwards “G.” A third belonged to a family who had lived in the southeast part of Dalarna before coming to the U.S. Interestingly, that wheel does not have a maker’s mark, but the handwritten number “17” on various parts.  While my wheel does not have numbers on the outside of the parts, I did discover numbers penciled in hidden areas where the wheel uprights (number 3)

This wheel upright has a slender shim that appears to have been inserted when the wheel was made

and legs (number 2) are inserted into the table. 

Also, several of these wheels have shown up on sale sites, including this wheel in Norway. 

While the turned part is thicker, the maidens, drive wheel, and metal covered table appear to be very similar to the others.  Another wheel recently for sale came to the U.S. from Sweden with the seller’s ancestors.  But the only information she had on where they had lived was that an uncle worked at a copper mine.  That mine would likely have been the large Falun mine, which is in Dalarna, too.

The Dalarna connection was reinforced by the photo above of two wheels, which Swedish spinner, weaver, and teacher, Marie Ekstedt Bjersing, posted on Facebook.  The wheels are part of the collection at Sätergläntan, a century-old handcraft school in Insjön, a small town in the middle of Dalarna. 

Sätergläntan

The wheels were donated to the school by two different people, and, from what Marie knows, they were from southern Dalarna.  I was fortunate to take a weaving class at Sätergläntan this past summer and soon after I arrived, made a beeline to to their wheel collection to check out the two wheels. 

Both are in good condition.  One has initials almost identical to those on my wheel

and the other one’s are similar to those on Sheila’s wheel. 

I made some inquiries locally (with help) to see if anyone had a clue as to where these wheels were made, but came up empty-handed.

The axle cap appears to be curly birch on this one, too

I spent some time spinning flax on one of the wheels and, as with mine, it is a joy to spin on.  As Sheila commented about her wheel, the spinning is “almost effortless.”  Whether it is the metal on the rim giving the wheel some extra weight and momentum, something about the long low design, or some other design feature, these wheels have a spinning quality that is hard to match. 

While examining Sätergläntan’s wheel collection, another wheel caught my eye.  Although it had a flat table, the drive wheel, spokes, drop in treadle, maidens and grooved sides were markedly similar to the turned-table, metal-clad wheels.  The initials were different, but the wheels certainly appeared to be related somehow. 

Could it provide some clues?  Maybe.  More to come in the next blog post. 

Thank you to Sheila and Marie for permission to use their photos.

Update on January 12, 2024: Just as this was posted, another of the thicker-waisted versions of this style wheel came up for sale in Hofors, Sweden, which is just east of Dalarna. It only has metal on the table under the mother-of-all. But, as with my wheel, there is what appears to be bark left on the table edge. 

Amalia

This wheel’s distinctive profile is immediately recognizable from across a room. Its rakish slant, impressive drive wheel, and closely set double upright supports combine for a unmistakable look. The wheel’s previous owner had brought the wheel to New Hampshire from Gothenburg, Sweden, where she had been living.

As far as she knew, the wheel had been made locally, somewhere near Gothenburg. A few sister wheels have shown up on Facebook and Ravelry, but with little information as to their origins. Recently, however, another showed up online as part of the “Lin on Me” linen exhibit at the Rydals Museum in Rydal, Sweden, east of Gothenburg. I checked with the museum and with others in Sweden knowledgeable about antique wheels and, while there seems to be agreement that the wheels are from Västra Götaland, the county (län) surrounding Gothenburg, no one seems to know the maker or town in which they were made.

No maker’s mark

They share some similarities with the beautiful Solberga wheels, but those typically are double rimmed. The photo below is a Solberga wheel, also from Västra Götaland. The photo is from the Upplandsmuseet, with more details here in Digitalt Museum: https://digitaltmuseum.se/011023874843/spinnrock

In the photo above, a woman is spinning in Bolum, also in Västra Götaland. Although the wheel is different than Amalia, it shares many features. More information on this photo is found here: https://digitaltmuseum.se/021017212168/spinning. For anyone researching Swedish wheels, I highly recommend the DigitaltMuseum: https://digitaltmuseum.se/search/?q=spinnrock&o=0&n=60 The search term “spinnrock” yields photographs from eight museums.

As with the Solberga wheels, Amalia’s most striking feature is the drive wheel.

With a 27 inch diameter, sixteen spokes, and decorative finial/half spokes, it was designed both for beauty and fast spinning. And there is no doubt this wheel was valued for its spinning, with telltale signs of heavy use. The axle area is so deeply encrusted with old grease, I hesitated to try to unscrew the axle retaining pegs. I did unscrew one, but left the other in place.

the back-side axle emerges from a sheath of thin crumpled metal.

The front had badly worn the bearing, requiring a bit of propping.

The paint wear on the spinner’s side is fascinating.

One maiden, one upright support, the table side,

and one leg have been rubbed clean of paint, revealing the smooth lustrous wood underneath.

It is interesting to speculate just how the wear occurred–perhaps a combination of hands and clothing (large skirts and sleeves, perhaps?) rubbing against the wheel for hours, days, months, and years.

Most of the treadle paint has worn off completely.

The treadle paint and wood wear show that the wheel was often treadled with two feet. The treadle bar appears to have been designed for treadling that way, with its widened sweep to easily accommodate and support the left foot.

The uphill leg was replaced and painted a lighter green.

All of the wheels of this style that I have seen were painted with a very dark green paint. In contrast, the flyer is not painted, which is not unusual on painted Scandinavian wheels.

On the other hand, it might indicate that the flyer is not original to the wheel.

Especially because it does not show as heavy use as the rest of the wheel. The flyer hooks are quite large.

The leather bearings look like they could be original.

The spinner-side flyer bearing is four-layered leather, riveted with nails.

To see how such bearings were made, here is a superb 1964 video of Swedish wheel maker, August Jonsson: Spinnrocken.

Amalia’s wheel is missing one spoke and several of the small half-spoke/finials. The wheel rim is unusually constructed with eight alternating short and long sections.

To help support the large wheel, there are long, smooth secondary uprights running down to each leg.

The drive wheel’s arched-top double upright supports are most often associated with Finnish wheels. But they are found on Swedish wheels, too. These are closer together than most, which add to this wheel’s elegant style.

The table is made of fairly coarse grained wood, rough on the underside, but with nicely turned (and worm/beetle hole riddled) bottoms to the upright supports. Several have old shims.

There is a spinner-side distaff hole, but no distaff.

And the table end and openings are nicely chip-carved.

The distance between the flyer and the drive wheel is very short, which is somewhat unusual for Swedish wheels. It does allow for a large drive wheel to fit in a smaller footprint, although the wheel is quite tall. As for spinning, the wheel is fast, smooth, and effortless. Hats off to her maker, wherever he was.

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

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.

Jerusha and Julia

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. 

Auction wheel

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.

with a “JC” mark

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.” 

with an “IC” mark

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. 

Ellen’s great wheel

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. 

The North Stonington great wheel

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. 

Babcock-Smith House flax wheel
with stars but no maker’s mark

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.” 

Another wheel from Westerly

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. 

with an “SC” mark

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. 

from the backside

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.

well-pitted axle

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 18th century to early 19th 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. 

Rose’s mark

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.

painted thread bar

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.

Woody Hill’s table grooves
Rose’s grooves
Julia’s grooves

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

Chamfering on Woody Hill

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

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

Huge wedge for the wheel support

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.  

Truus

Truus is a striking combination of form and function. 

The turnings on this Dutch wheel are almost mesmerizing, especially when light strikes them through a window.  Long and short rows of ridges at various angles, topped by four maiden spires—wheel sculpture. 

In a dim interior before electric lights, candle and fire light would have highlighted and accentuated the ridges, creating an intricate interplay of light, dark, and shadow.  Today, even in a room full of beautiful wheels, this one captures the light, becoming the center of attention. 

Not only a treat for the eyes, it is a little workhorse.  With two flyers, side by side, a spinner can spin flax at a much greater rate than with a single flyer (for more information on a double flyer wheel’s increased production, see the end of the earlier post “Louisa Lenore”). 

This wheel’s design is especially nice for two handed spinning because each flyer has a separate tension system, which allows the spinner to fine tune the tension of each flyer to closely synchronize their uptake rates. 

In comparison, the tensioning on Connecticut double flyer wheels seems crude, because each tension adjustment has some effect on both flyers, making it more difficult to find that sweet uptake spot, especially if one of the flyers is a replacement.  I have spun on several different styles of double flyer wheels and, to me, this one is by far the easiest to achieve consistent two-handed spinning.  It is a very sweet flax spinner.

Historically, Dutch wheels were made in a variety of styles, reflected in a richness of paintings.

Esaias Boursse–Interior With an Old Woman at Spinning Wheel
Maerten van Heemskerck–Portrait of a Woman at the Spinning Wheel

Most of the Dutch double-flyers, however, seem to look much like Truus, with small variations.  These postcards of double flyers are entitled “Geldersch Binnenhuisje.” 

Binnenhuisje is a home’s interior and, I believe, Geldersch refers to the province of Gelderland, in the east central area of the Netherlands. 

This woman appears to have threads going to both flyers but only one flyer seems to have a drive band or any accumulation of thread. 

The wheel in the above postcard does not even have a footman, but it is a lovely and instructive prop. My favorite card, identifying a woman spinning flax on a wheel with a reel, is intriguing because the wheel appears to be almost identical to Truus, right down to the bobbin holders. 

The card reads, “Groete van de Veluwe,” meaning “Greetings from Veluwe”–a region in the Gelderland.  Perhaps these wheels were a Gelderland style.  And, possibly, many were made by the same maker.  Several identical, or nearly so, wheels have turned up in widely different locations around the world.   One wheel, featured in Issue #65 of the Spinning Wheel Sleuth, and looking just like Truus, was found in Australia.  According to the article, that wheel had “W&H” or “M&H” handwritten on the base of the upright forks.  (SWS #65, pp.9-10).  Interestingly, another sister wheel, bought in Gelderland, was posted on Ravelry about seven years ago, with an “HW” stamped on the end of the table. As far as I know, no one has identified “HW” or determined if he may have been a primary maker of these wheels.

Ginnie’s wheel

Several similar wheels have been found around the United States, but, as far as I know, no others have maker’s marks. 

Ginnie’s wheel

A few have some ornamentation, perhaps ceramic or porcelain, including the wheel above owned by Ginnie Schirmer in Kansas. Aside from the bits of ornament, her wheel looks just like Truus, although it has an axle pin, perhaps original.

Ginnie’s wheel

Truus’ axles came pinless.

True to her Dutch roots, Truus turned up for sale in Michigan, in an area heavy with Dutch immigrants.  A wonderful woman in Michigan (now a friend) kindly picked her up, fostered, and eventually railroaded her east. The wheel was in pretty good shape but had no distaff parts and both flyers were split down the middle at the orifice end.

I was thrilled, though, to have both flyers, damaged or not.  I sent her off to John Sturdevant at SpiritWood for repair and to have a distaff made.  When John started the flyer repair, he was surprised to discover, in a mandrel section that had been covered by the wooden flyer, the name “R. Picard” engraved the metal on both flyers. 

Try as I might, the only R. Picard I have been able to find is a Raphael Picard, who founded a watchmaking company in 1837 in La Chaux-de-Fonds, Switzerland.  It seems unlikely that he would have made spinning wheel mandrels for Dutch wheels.  But perhaps there is some family connection.   

While Picard’s engraving shows that both flyers likely are original, they are not identical.  One is slightly longer and has a nipple end on its whorl. 

Both whorls have a feature sometimes seen on Scandinavian wheels—a lipped recess on the flyer whorl in which the bobbin neatly nests. 

Ginnie’s wheel has the same nested bobbin

On both flyers, the wood is cut back from the mandrel on both sides near the orifice.

Another distinctive feature of these sister wheels is a curved treadle bar

and arrow-ended treadle. 

My wheel has wear showing that it was treadled with both feet, perhaps with wooden klompen as in this postcard. 

The ends of the treadle bars look handcarved,

as are the tension knob pegs,

which fit so perfectly in the holes that I’m still working on matching the pegs back to the correct holes. If they are lined up just right, they do not need to be hammered in.

Decorative touches are everywhere,

except for the drive wheel rim,

which has simple four-part construction.  

Ginnie’s wheel showing the collar extending past the table

The mother-of-all collar on the uphill side extends past the table

Truus’ collar overhang

and has a strong grain. 

Several areas have traces of red paint

and others are grease-encrusted. 

There were two metal upright rods for storing bobbins along the non-spinner side,

but one has broken off. 

Each flyer has its own drive band

and they seem to happily accommodate each other on the drive wheel without any fiddling on my part. 

The leather flyer bearings are three layers held together with metal rivets.

The distaff hole is between the two flyers. 

There is not much room for the lowest distaff piece.

 

In deciding on the distaff design, I worked with John.

I examined wheel photos and a friend kindly sent me photos and measurements from a wheel in Canada.  I am delighted with how it turned out. 

I understand why these wheels have ended up so far from where they were made.  They were a perfect combination of desirable features–lightweight, portable, and beautiful in form, while performing their function brilliantly as efficient and pleasurable spinners.  

Thank you to John, Rita, and Gordon for helping me to bring this wheel back to life and to Ginnie for sharing photos of her wheel.

For more information see:

Feldman-Wood, Florence, Two Double-Flyer Dutch Spinning Wheels, The Spinning Wheel Sleuth, Issue #65, July 2009.

SpiritWood’s link: https://www.spinningwheelrepairs.com/

Green Linnet

This is an old wheel.  It was part of Joan Cummer’s collection, auctioned off when Lowell’s American Textile History Museum closed.  I was the only person to bid on this wheel at the auction and bought it because Cummer believed it to be the oldest wheel in her collection. 

The underside of the table has a carved date in Roman Numerals of 1707, and the same date is faintly inscribed on the table’s side. 

The wheel is No. 29 in Cummer’s collection and, in her description, she did not question the date, noting that it was compatible with the wheel’s William and Mary turnings. 

According to Cummer, the wheel was believed to have been brought to New England from England. 

I do not know if the wheel is really that old or if it was from England—it has some Scandinavian-style features.

Unfortunately, we do not have many surviving wheels from the early 18th century for comparison and I have not been able to find any similar wheels in paintings. 

I like to think it is over three hundred years old. 

Knotted wood on the inside of one leg

But, even if not quite that old, it has been through a lot. 

As Cummer commented, there seems to be at least one layer of green paint that, while old, is not original. 

The wood that shines through is a beautifully grained reddish color. 

The two secondary upright supports rise from the legs and fall out at the slightest jiggle. One foot is completely broken out where the treadle bar rod was inserted. 

In the leg at the other end, the bar is supported by a metal tube inserted through the wood.

The wheel’s slanty stance is a result of the legs being inserted into angular cuts on the table’s downhill side. 

The circular tree rings are visible on the end of the table. 

The axle is held in place with a large screwed wooden pin,

although the back one is missing.  There are carvings on the table

and at both ends,

a distaff hole,

and multiple grooves down the sides. 

The treadle bars are thick and give plenty of support for two footed treadling. Yet, they are graceful, too. The treadle is now attached with large screws.

 The wheel rim is four parts with a thin shim piece in one join.

The elongated tops of the maidens are particularly lovely. 

The flyer assembly is in good shape

with three-layered leather flyer bearings held together with rivets. 

It appears that the green paint was slathered over everything at some point, including the flyer hooks and leather bearings.

It is an unusual, intriguing wheel and I am always on the lookout for others like it so that we might be able to better establish its age and origin. 

For further reference see:

Cummer, Joan, A Book of Spinning Wheels, Peter E. Randall, Portsmouth, N.H. 1984, pp. 70-71.

A Ripple and Breaks

Flax is amazing.  It has been used by humans for fiber for about 30,000 years. 

From a children’s textbook, Orbis Sensualium Pictus (Visible World in Pictures), by Johann Amos Cornelius (1592-1670), 1705 edition at Huntington Library, Museum, and Botanical Gardens.

Fiber flax today, Linum usitatissimum, is a slender plant, often three feet or more in height, topped with a blue flower that bobs and sways in the wind. 

Its stem contains long fibrous strands that, when separated from the woody parts, can be twisted or spun into strong, long-lasting linen thread.  But getting from plant to linen is a laborious, exhausting process, made somewhat easier by tools developed over centuries.  Fortunately, in New England, where I live, many of these tools can still be found in barns, antique stores, and at auctions. 

Many European settlers in New England came from flax growing regions and brought with them the skills and knowledge for flax production. New England’s climate was well-suited for growing flax and during the 17th and 18th centuries, it was widely grown and processed by households for bedding, clothing, ropes, string, and sails. 

It must have been a beautiful sight to see acres on acres of flax in bloom.  But the work involved for a family to process enough for its own use is almost unimaginable to me.  After processing my own flax for several years, I will never look at linen in the same way again.  I am in awe of the fabric and the people who produced it, one backbreaking season after another. 

I became intrigued with the thought of growing and processing my own flax after seeing a demonstration at Maine’s Common Ground Fair the year we moved here.  Soon after, I read A Midwife’s Tale, Laurel Thatcher Ulrich’s book based on the diary of a Maine woman, Martha Ballard.  I found a complete copy of Ballard’s diary online and searched for all references to flax growing and processing to get a better idea of how it fit in to the rhythm of her year.  http://dohistory.org/diary/1785/01/17850101_txt.html.  When I planted my flax seeds the next year, I followed Martha’s schedule. 

Soon after germination

Flax is easy to grow in Maine and has thrived in my garden.  I plant it in May and harvest it 90-100 days later, when the plant has turned a golden-yellow on the bottom third.  The flowers only last a day and then rapidly turn into roundish seed pods, which change color from green to gold as they mature. 

Flax also is valuable crop for seeds and seed oil, but seed flax is a different variety than fiber flax and does not grow as long and tall.  Fiber flax is harvested by pulling it up, roots and all (the roots are small).  It then is bundled and dried, usually by setting the bundles into shocks or by hanging them. 

After it has dried, the seeds are removed—a process called rippling.  This can be done by laying the flax down and crushing the seeds with a wooden mallet or flail or by using a rippling comb, also called a ripple. 

Of all the flax processing tools, ripples are the hardest to find in New England.  It was not until this summer that I found one, and I had already rippled the year’s flax. 

So, I don’t have a photo of it in use.  Instead, I took some stray flax plants that grew from seeds dropped in the garden while harvesting and used them in the photo to give an idea how it works.  The ripple has metal teeth, nicely spaced to whomp off the seeds while allowing for a nice smooth motion pulling the plants through. 

Two prongs at the bottom can be secured between or in boards and allow the ripple to be easily carried for use in different places. 

There are initials “CW” in a corner on mine and some decorative lines and balls.  I can’t wait to put it to use next year. 

Rippling is just the start of processing.  The next stage, retting, is a tricky one. Retting dissolves the pectins connecting the fiber bundles in the stem, allowing the fibers to be separated from the woody inner core and outer skin. It is essentially a bacterial rotting process, but must be handled carefully so that it doesn’t progress too far and break down the fiber itself.  Traditionally, two types of retting were used—water retting and dew retting.  I also use a third, less common method—snow retting.  In water retting, the flax is submerged and weighted down. 

It is the fastest, and smelliest, retting method, usually taking about 5 days for me in summer heat.  For dew retting, the flax is laid on the grass and turned regularly.  I usually dew ret in September and it can take anywhere from 10 days to three weeks, depending on the weather. 

For the last two years, I have retted some of my flax on snow, laying it down when there is sufficient snow cover to keep it from touching the ground then leaving it there until snow melt—2 to 3 months. 

Every type of retting produces a different color fiber—almost white for tub-retted, gray for dew-retted, and golden for snow-retted.

Retted and ready for breaking. From front to back: snow-retted, dew-retted, water-retted.

It is tricky to time the retting just right, but every year I get better at it.  Once the flax is retted and dried again, it is ready for breaking–the process that removes the fibrous strands from the wood core and epidermis.  The woody bits that break off are called boon or shive. 

Mallets can be used for breaking but hinged wooden flax breaks (or brakes) are much more efficient. 

They have a blade or blades on the upper arm that descend into grooves in the lower part, smashing the flax between them. 

Most breaks are on legs, but some were designed to be used on a table.  This break has three blades on top and four on the bottom.  I bought it from a friend in Maine and another Maine friend has one that is almost identical. 

Interestingly, there is one just like them from Lunenberg County, Nova Scotia, pictured in a book about early handweaving in eastern Canada, Keep Me Warm One Night (p. 28, photograph 6). 

I have also seen a photo of one in Kentucky and some similar ones in Switzerland. 

It is a good solid break, the crossbars on the legs make it easy to pick up and move around. 

My second break appears to be much newer. 

In fact, I suspect it may have been made in the 1960s or 70s.  I bought it at an auction for $10. 

The auctioneer had no idea what it was and called it a “farm implement of some sort, maybe it could be used to make pasta, ha, ha.” 

It has two blades on the top and three on the bottom. 

It is simple, sturdy and works well. 

Each break has its own feel and way of working—both good, but different. 

I also bought this beauty at an auction. 

It had belonged to couple living on Rings Island near Newburyport, Massachusetts.  Unlike most breaks, it is dated and initialed and has a seat.  I have seen a few breaks with these seats and would love to know more about them.  (see the update below) Breaking is rough and repetitive—hard on the back, the hands, the wrists, and the legs.  It must have eased the burden to be able to sit on the bench.  I like to think of it as an old woman’s break.  Sadly, it is riddled with woodworm tunnels, so I only use it occasionally.

Finally, here is a little toy break. 

I would love to know how old it is and for whom it was made.

After breaking, flax still needs to be scutched and hackled before it can be spun.  Scutching knives and hackles come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes and I will do later posts on them.  In the meantime, there are wonderful books on flax for anyone interested.  I only skimmed the surface here.

Burnham, Harold B. and Dorothy K., ‘Keep me warm one night,’ Early handweaving in eastern Canada, Univ. of Toronto Press, Toronto and Buffalo, 1972.

Dewilde, Bert, Flax in Flanders Throughout the Centuries, Lannoo, Tielt, Belgium, 1987.

Heinrich, Linda, Linen From Flax Seed to Woven Cloth, Schiffer Publishing, Atglen, PA, 1992.

Meek, Katie Reeder, Reflections From a Flaxen Past, Pennannular Press Int’l, Alpena, Mich., 2000.

Merrimack Valley Textile Museum, All Sorts of Good and Sufficient Cloth, Linen-Making in New England 1640-1860, Merrimack Valley Text. Mus., North Andover, Massachusetts, 1980.

Zinzendorf, Christian and Johannes, The Big Book of Flax, Schiffer Publishing, Atglen, PA, 2011.

Update on October 1, 2021: Recently Christiane Seufferlein, who started the wonderful group, Berta’s Flax, on Facebook, posted this photograph of a woman using a seated flax break like the one I bought from Newburyport.

According to Christiane, this photograph was taken in the 1930s in the Bavarian region of Austria. She also sent me a photo of a similar seated break and scutching wheel from the Mühlviertel region of Austria. Similar scutching wheels were used in North America and there is a photograph of one from Pennsylvania in the post “Scutching Knives.”

And, finally, here is a drawing of flax processing in Austria with an intriguing multi-station flax break.

As Christiane explained, “There have been many customs when it came to flax processing. In Kärnten, one part of Austria it was common to celebrate the breaking of the retted flax. This task was done by the women if a farm and whenever a man came near he was ‘attacked’ with flax. The girls stuffed the little flax bundles in his collar and pockets and only stopped when he paid for his freedom. In the evening there used to be a dance in the barn.”

Thank you to Christiane for allowing me to use these photos and, especially, for her work in sharing the dowry flax of Berta, Rosa, Maria, and others to people around the world.

Two Reels

Reels, like wheels, come in a wonderful variety of styles, often reflecting a region and a time.  Within each style, makers used their own ingenuity and personal touches, often to increase ease of use and efficiency.

No matter the style, the function is the same–to take yarn off of a spinning wheel’s spindle or bobbin to create a skein.  The skein can then be washed or dyed in preparation for weaving or knitting. 

One of the simplest reels is a niddy-noddy.  It is relatively easy to make and is portable and easy to store.  On the down side, it is not particularly fast or efficient and there is no mechanism for counting the rotations of yarn as it is reeled. 

Simple niddy-noddies are easy to find and inexpensive in Maine.  Decorated ones, however, tend to go for high prices.  I was at an auction where a chip-carved niddy-noddy—nice, but nothing awesome—went for $450, while the Shaker wheels at the auction went for less than $50.  Ouch. 

I only have one niddy-noddy and it is the first reel that I bought.  I found it at Elmer’s, a local junk barn, one of four hanging from an overhead beam.  I liked the way it felt in my hand and its simple, swooping lines. 

The length of yarn for one full turn is 72 inches—or two yards.  Its handle, worn to a glass-smooth feel, has a slight curve to the side, which I assume was an intentional design to make for an easier rocking motion when reeling on and easier removal of the skein. 

The next reel I bought (Lucy) came from the American Textile History Museum (ATHM).  I spotted her at one of the auctions of ATHM items and, although I had no intention of buying a reel, was attracted to her small size and simplicity. 

I was the only bidder, brought her home, and she has been my go-to reel ever since. 

One of the nice features of this reel is that the box top opens, making it easy to paraffin the threads for smoother rotation and to troubleshoot any problems with the gear mechanism. 

Another nice feature is the little handle for turning the arms.  It rotates around a center piece, allowing a constant grip as the reel is turned, making for faster reeling. 

The clicker is a long wooden piece that gives a nice thwacking sound when it hits a small metal barb on the gear. 

Five of the six arms have lips on the end-pieces to keep the yarn in place,

with the sixth being smooth for easy removal of the skein. 

In A Book of Spinning Wheels, Joan Cummer refers to the oddball smooth end-piece as “the stranger.”  Cummer, p. 302.  

In addition to the clicker, Lucy has a simple clock mechanism on the side.  Originally the reel may have had a paper label under the arm for rotation count. 

There is a somewhat similar reel in the Mount Lebanon Shaker museum collection, with the same simple clock arm and a paper label.  https://www.shakermuseum.us/object/?id=5542&limit=24&offset=24&sort=name_ref&tags=weaving  

As with my niddy-noddy, the length of yarn for one rotation on this reel is 72 inches, or two yards, and the clock clicks at 40 rotations, making an 80 yard skein. 

Joan Cummer indicates that the distance between clicks is 85 yards on most American reels, which gives an 80 yard skein after washing and shrinkage.  Id.  I am not sure if my reels are outliers or if I am measuring improperly. 

This reel is a typical style found in New England.  I do not know where she is from originally.   An almost identical reel came up for auction in Maine a few years ago and was said to be Shaker made.  

It is probable that the maker also made spinning wheels because the legs, cross bar, and table appear to have come from wheel stock—and do have a Shaker look to them. 

But, who knows? 

In any case, she is beautifully made and her clicker and clock still work perfectly.  And she brought along a piece of what looks like handwoven linen tucked in to tighten a cross piece.

For more information on reels:

Baines, Patricia.  Spinning Wheels, Spinners and Spinning.  New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1977, pp. 302-327. 

Cummer, Joan. A Book of Spinning Wheels, Portsmouth, NH: Peter J. Randall, 1993.

Beatrix

When I first saw this, I suspected it was fiber related, but had absolutely no idea what it was. It turns out this odd looking, hamster-playground-contraption is a wonderfully versatile fiber tool. 

It goes by multiple names, including squirrel cage swift, drum swift, barrel swift, and wool rice.   

I was puzzled by the squirrel cage name, thinking that surely our busy 18th and 19th century forebears did not have the time or inclination for caging squirrels.  But a quick internet search proved me wrong.  Apparently, squirrels of all kinds—gray, red, and flying—were popular household pets as early as the 1700s and as late as the Victorian period. 

Some were actually leashed, while others were housed in cages complete with exercise wheels about the size of the wheels on this swift.  I love how researching antique textile tools can bring to life other details of their time, like a penchant for pet squirrels.

Swifts are designed to hold a skein of yarn and to turn, allowing the yarn to be easily wound off into a ball or onto a spool or bobbin for knitting or weaving. 

A reel or winder would have been used before the swift, to unwind the yarn from a spinning wheel and make the skein.  Like most swifts, squirrel cage swifts can be adjusted so that different sized skeins will fit. 

On mine, both cages are moveable and held in place with friction wedges on the opposite sides of the cages. 

Unfortunately, if the wedges aren’t positioned just right, the top cage has a tendency to go crashing down at the slightest bump.  It is quite heavy and, aside from concern that the swift will be damaged, I was afraid that it might land on a finger or two, crushing them into so many pieces.   

I finally learned to insert clarinet reeds as wedges underneath, which works well to keep the cages in place.

Most squirrel cage swifts have barrels big enough to fit two skeins side-by-side.  That makes them ideal for plying, which is how I most often use mine.  I also use it to smooth my handspun linen, running it from the swift to a reel through wet fingers or a bar of soap.   

They also work wonderfully as yarn blockers.  Wet skeins can be stretched to a desired tension and then periodically rotated to efficiently dry the skein by moving the wettest area at the bottom up to the top. 

My swift, Beatrix, appeared outside of our local antique store one day, an oddity to draw in the curious.  According to the store owner, it had belonged to an old woman, two towns over, who had been a weaver. 

Her loom had been sold to someone on the coast, but he picked up this swift and a reel. I was smitten the deep groves on every cross bar of the cages. 

Imagine all the skeins that ran over those bars.  There were some bits of linen thread tied at the edges of two bars, so I like to imagine that it saw its share of locally grown linen in its day. 

But, really, I don’t anything about when it was made or by whom. 

It’s very sturdy, with substantial weight and short legs, so won’t tip, no matter how it is used. 

Some parts are beautifully turned, some hand carved. 

The holes in the supports under the cages are seen in other reels and swifts, and there are various theories about their purpose, but I’m not sure that anyone really knows why they are there. 

These holes do not show any yarn wear marks, but they must be there for a reason.  Any and all theories are welcome. 

I have never seen another swift quite like this one.  In fact, I have never have seen two squirrel cage swifts that were the same. 

But there are a wide array of styles, so they must have been popular in their time. 

Perhaps not many survived because they didn’t have the decorative appeal that allowed so many of our antique wheels to escape the burn pile. 

January 2021 update: Thanks to the knowledgeable and generous woman known as whiteoakgrandma on Ravelry, the mystery of the holes in the arm supports has been solved. They are for dowels to keep the skeins separated and from slipping off (or piling up on) the ends of the cages while plying. Whiteoakgrandma learned this when she was growing up from the elders in her community in West Virginia. It works brilliantly!

Polly and a Skarne

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. 

H. Thomson flax wheel

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. 

Flax wheel

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.