By Susan Martin, Processing Archivist & EAD Coordinator

In 1849, the ship Lanerk sailed from Boston to California as part of the Gold Rush. On the ship was a clergyman named Truman Ripley Hawley, and the MHS recently acquired a transcript of his diary of the journey. It contains a lot of terrific detail, but one particular digression caught my eye. On 4 August 1849, off the west coast of South America, the Lanerk met the ship Christopher Mitchell, captained by Thomas Sullivan of New Jersey. Sullivan told Hawley about the following “amusing incident”:

He [Sullivan] sailed from Nantucket with his crew, shipped from different states in the union, only one of whom before the mast had ever been to sea before. On the voyage out all had done their duty, and all had been in the boats as usual. One of the crew was taken sick […] when one of the crew came aft […] and informed the captain that one of the crew in the forecastle who went by the name of George Johnson was a female! It very much surprised him, as well as all on board, and the man was told to go forward and send George into the cabin. He did so, and George made his appearance. The Capt. after interrogating her gave up a birth [sic] in his cabin for her and immediately put back to Peyta [Paita, Peru], gave her $100 and sent her home on board a vessel.

I learned from Eric Jay Dolin’s Leviathan: The History of Whaling in America (pp. 237-40), as well as other sources, that the woman was 19-year-old Ann Johnson of Rochester, N.Y. Her identity was discovered in July 1849 when (ahem) some of her clothes fell away in a feverish delirium. Why had Johnson dressed as a man and joined the crew of the Christopher Mitchell? Well, her story made the newspapers, but contemporary accounts varied widely, and historians haven’t been able to come to a consensus. Here’s Sullivan’s explanation:

She said in her story that she was decoyed away from home, Rochester, N.Y. by a man with whom she lived a few months when he left her, that she then went to her home but was forbid to enter by her father, that she then went and dressed in boy’s clothes, and went to ride horse on the canal, towing boats; that afterwards she went into a shipping office and asked for a birth [sic] on board a ship in the capacity of cabin boy, but finding no encouragement consented to ship as a youngster in a whaler. That she was sent to Nantucket and engaged by the owners of this vessel. Romantic truly!

I can’t say whether this version is definitive, but Hawley was hearing it from the captain himself only one month after it happened. Amazingly, Johnson had been able to maintain her disguise for seven months!

The story of Ann Johnson reminded me of another female sailor I learned about earlier this year when I cataloged the letters of Augustus Percival. Her name was Abbie Clifford, and she sailed with her husband, Captain Edwin Clifford, on a brig that bore her name. The Cliffords were from Maine. Percival served as their first mate in 1869 and mentioned them often in letters to his wife back in East Orleans, Mass.

The Abbie Clifford was engaged in the China trade, and in the fall of 1869, the ship was anchored at Shanghai waiting for a freight of tea. Percival occupied the cabin adjoining the Cliffords, and the three often ate and talked late into the evening on a variety of subjects, including religion. His letters reveal an unmistakable affection for the “free hearted” couple and an admiration, especially, for Mrs. Clifford.

Mrs Clifford is quite a Sailor, has been over 10 years with the Capt and I dont know as she has missed a voyage since he has been Master. She is a fine looking woman, and very pleasant, and quite a talker. [24 September 1869]

She lets me see all the things she buys on shore and I like her much, and we have all got along first rate so far, and hope we shall continue the same, but I know he is a very timid man & very nervous, but then he has much to worry him. [5 October 1869]

Every day brings us nearer a Charter, but he is almost discouraged at times, while She is always looking on the bright side, which is proper. [9 October 1869]

The end of November 1869 found the Abbie Clifford at Swatow (now called Shantou) chartering to take hundreds of “coolies” to Singapore. Percival’s intimacy with the Cliffords had only grown. He described the captain in fraternal terms and continued to praise Mrs. Clifford for her seafaring abilities, as well as her domestic qualities.

Mrs. C. generally looks after his Books, and is very good in figures and is a very good Navigator also and works time for the Capt or did on the passage out. [4 December 1869] 

It seems good to live in such a friendly way, and as it seems good to have some one to confide in, I say many things to Mrs. that I do not to others, and she is very good to me, will sew on a Button, offered to mend my Socks, &c. [6 December 1869]

By December 1870, Percival had moved on to another ship. But events of 1872 proved his admiration for Abbie Clifford very well-founded.

That spring, off the coast of Pernambuco, Brazil, yellow fever ravaged the Abbie Clifford, killing at least five crew members, including the steward, first mate, and Captain Clifford. When Percival heard the news, he wrote to his wife about Mrs. Clifford: “I pity her, but trust she will bear up under her trials with Christian fortitude.”

That she did. After her husband’s death on 5 April 1872, Mrs. Clifford (according to some accounts, suffering from yellow fever herself) gamely took command of the ship and sailed the thousands of miles north to New York, with the help of those men well enough to work. On the way, the crew withstood a five-day gale above Cape Hatteras that destroyed several of the ship’s spars and sails. They arrived at their destination on 12 May 1872.

Abbie Clifford’s exploits were recounted in glowing terms in newspaper articles of the day, like this one from as far away as Australia:

And as early as 1883, she was profiled in books like Daughters of America; or, Women of the Century (pp. 716-7) alongside some of the greatest 18th- and 19th-century American women. The Illustrated History of Kennebec County, Maine (pp. 757-8), published in 1892, mentions Abbie Clifford’s second marriage in 1877 to George Brown and goes on to describe her like this:

Mrs. Brown is a lady of genial bearing, a broad, well disciplined mind, and rare courage. She made several sea voyages with Captain Clifford, who commanded vessels in the merchant service. While on these voyages she studied navigation as a pastime, and when the necessity came of putting her knowledge of chart and compass to the test, her courage was not wanting.

Abbie J. Longfellow, later Clifford, later Brown, was born in 1839, which would make her only 32 or 33 at the time of her triumphal return to New York at the helm of the Abbie Clifford. She died in 1901.

By Brendan Kieran, Reader Services

With Thanksgiving around right around the corner, I decided to explore the story of a fruit that appears in a sauce on many Thanksgiving plates: cranberries. More specifically, I looked through MHS resources to see what I could learn about the history of cranberries and cranberry growing in the state. While Massachusetts is home to a notable cranberry industry, I didn’t know too much about it beyond quick glimpses of bogs I see from the car when I go to Cape Cod. I ended up learning a bit about the practice of growing cranberries as well as the connection of the industry to immigration and the development of Cape Verdean communities in Massachusetts.

An 1891 broadside in the collection, Cranberry crop for 1891, sheds some light on the geographic scope of the cranberry industry in late 19th century Massachusetts, the means of transportation for harvested cranberries, and the general productivity of the crop over the course of the years 1889, 1890, and 1891. The broadside has statistics, put together by a Charles H. Nye, Esq., for barrels and boxes of cranberries shipped from various stations along the Cape Cod Division of the Old Colony Railroad, along with a briefer set of statistics for the Old Colony Railroad’s Central Division. Some stations, such as Tremont, Wareham, West Barnstable, Harwich, seem to have been quite busy during this time. 1891 in particular was a bustling year for cranberry shipments along the Cape Cod Division, as over 130,000 barrels were shipped that year, which “exceeded by over 45,000 bbls., the largest yield of any previous year, that of 1889.”

The Ropes family photographs at the MHS include four photographs of workers harvesting cranberries on Cape Cod, circa 1900-1910. The photographer is unknown, and the exact location does not seem to be clear, but the photos do provide snapshots of cranberry harvesting in Massachusetts at that time.

I read two essays in They Knew they were Pilgrims: Essays in Plymouth History, edited by L.D. Geller (New York: Poseidon Books, 1971), that provide insights into the cranberry industry of the early 20th century and the people who worked in it, from the perspectives of two authors with family connections to cranberry work. In “Life on a Cranberry Bog at the Turn of the Century,” Rose T. Briggs chronicles some of the changes that occurred in the industry in the early decades of the 20th century, drawn from her experience growing up in a cranberry-producing family. She discusses the technological changes that changed the work, the increase of immigrants from Cape Verde in the workforce, and, later, the increase in women working in cranberry bogs. In “Plymouth and Some Portuguese,” Rev. Peter J. Gomes discusses, from his perspective as the descendant of Cape Verdean immigrants, the development of Cape Verdean immigration to Massachusetts, the role Cape Verdean workers played in the cranberry industry after it became a major employer of immigrants from Cape Verde in the early 20th century, and some of the general experiences of Cape Verdean immigrants in southeastern Massachusetts. These essays offer glimpses into the nature of the work on cranberry bogs as well as the groups of people and communities who participated in this work.

Peter J. Gomes, “Plymouth and Some Portuguese” 

“But what was it that made people leave the old country for the New World? One obvious reason was the lust for adventure and the hope for a better life. The islands were overpopulated and one’s future pretty well determined at birth. The New World offered better economic opportunity. Another reason, not so talked about, was escape from military service.” (181).

“Immigration was also prompted by relatives already established in America” (181).

“From New Bedford they spread over the Cape and southeast coastal region, shipping out and tending to agriculture and odd jobs between voyages. As the whaling industry declined during the last two decades of the century, the Portuguese, like his quondam employer, the shipmaster, had to seek out other means of livelihood. “He found it in the cranberry industry.” (182).

“The life of the Portuguese on the bogs was harsh. It was bitter and grueling work for starvation wages. Cheap labor was needed and they were it. Uninitiated into the ways of collective bargaining . . . they were easy marks for the speculators and exploiters who were rife.” (183)

Rose T. Briggs, “Life on a Cranberry Bog at the Turn of the Century”

“Those were the days of hand-picking. We used a six-quart tin that had a lovely reverberation when the first berries were dropped into it, but took so long for a child to fill. Then you proudly lugged your tin up to the tally keeper, called out your number, emptied it (another satisfying sound) and returned to begin another. The bog was laid off in rows with section-line, so each picker or family had its own row, and no one could hog the best picking. The man in charge of the gang had an eagle eye for dropped underberries, and for thin spots neglected, and the tally-keeper rejected measures that were not properly full, or had vines stuffed into the middle!” (190)

“In 1900 snap machines were beginning to come in. They took some skill to operate, and of course were much faster than hand-picking. The men that operated them were paid by the hour, not the measure. In 1903 it was twenty-five cents an hour. Scoops were also coming in, and with them the Cape Verde Portuguese, who soon were the characteristic labor force on the bogs.” (190).

“When immigration was put on a quota basis, all this commuting to the Islands came to an end, and settled Portuguese communities grew up in this country. They too came picking.

“During World War II energetic women, Portuguese and others, operated a scoopers which had always been considered strictly a man’s job. The type of picking machine now in use is often operated by women. The big gangs of scoopers have gone. What strikes one now in looking at a picking crew, is the small number of people involved. Sometimes the tenders outnumber the pickers.” (191).

“Where the grower’s team once carted his berries to the railroad, huge trucks now come from outside to transport the crop.” (191)

“Cranberry growing is still a colorful business, but the days of self-sufficiency are over” (191).

If these materials interest you, feel free to visit the MHS library, which is open six days a week!

By Susan Martin, Processing Archivist & EAD Coordinator

I have now to tell you of a pretty important step that I have just taken. I have given my name to be forwarded to Massachusetts for a commission in the 54th (negro) Regt. Coln. Shaw.

This excerpt comes from a letter written by Civil War soldier William Harris Simpkins on 26 February 1863. Harris was serving with the 44th Massachusetts Infantry at New Bern, N.C. and had been recommended for a post in the new 54th Regiment, the first African American regiment raised in the North. Simpkins decided to accept and, in this letter to his father, preemptively defended his decision and discussed the possibilities of the regiment.

William Harris Simpkins (1839-1863)

Simpkins was born in Boston, Mass. on 6 Aug. 1839 and worked as a clerk before enlisting in the Union Army. When he got word from Col. Francis L. Lee that he had the chance at a commission with the 54th under the command of Capt. Robert Gould Shaw, he was cautiously optimistic. He recognized the significance of the move and acknowledged what he might be giving up. Portions of his letter have been printed in histories of the regiment, but I think it’s worth quoting at length.

This is no hasty conclusion, no blind leap of an enthusiast, but the result of a considerable hard thinking.

It will not at first, and probably will not be for a long time, an agreeable position for many reasons too evident to state, and the man who goes into it resigns all chances in the new white Regiments, that must be raised; […] and there can be no dispute as to, among which color, the most comfortable & pleasurable position will be.

Simpkins’ friend Cabot Jackson Russel saw things in a similar light. The 18-year-old Russel served with Simpkins in the 44th and was also commissioned a captain of the 54th. Just one day before Simpkins, on 25 Feb. 1863, Russel wrote home to say that he had “given up everything” and was “going under Bob Shaw, as it seems so important to put this measure through.” (Russel’s letters can be found in the Patrick Tracy Jackson and Loring-Jackson-Noble family papers.)

Cabot Jackson Russel (1844-1863)

Despite the risks and the uncertainty, Simpkins still believed in the project. His letter continues:

Then it is nothing but an experiment after all. But it is an experiment, that I think it high time we should try; an experiment, that if successful, will be productive of much good; […] an experiment, which the sooner we prove unsuccessful, the sooner we shall establish an important truth and rid ourselves of a false hope.

Some publications stop quoting him there, but I found the next paragraph particularly moving.

There will probably be some trouble with the white troops in the field, arising from a traditional sence [sic] of honor, too nice for me to understand, which distinguishes between fighting behind earth-works thrown up by black laborers, and allowing a negro soldier to stand in the next field to fire his gun at the common enemy; but once prove the efficacy of black troops and I think they will hail them, as drowning men catch at straws.

To make the test you must have men who are willing for the trial. It is of especial importance, of course, in order to win the people to this movement, that it should be undertaken by the right sort of men, and that the first black Regt. should have everything done for it in the way of officers &c that would tend to make it efficient. If I am one of the persons selected, why should I refuse? I came out here, not from any fancied fondness of a military life, but to do what I could to help along the good cause. Why should I not stretch my patriotism a little further and accept a commission in a Negro Regt?

Simpkins was killed on 18 July 1863 during the assault at Fort Wagner as he kneeled next to his injured friend Russel. The 1864 memorial to Robert Gould Shaw includes a detailed description of Simpkins’ death, which was witnessed and recounted by Sgt. Stephen A. Swails.

Stephen Atkins Swails (1832-1900)

Simpkins, Russel, Shaw, and the black soldiers killed in the battle were buried together in a mass grave.

Simpkins’ letter forms part of the Hooper family papers here at the MHS—his aunt married into the Hooper family, and his cousin Henry Northey Hooper also served as a captain in the 54th Regiment. Unfortunately the document we have is only a copy written by someone else, and the location of the original is unknown. However, the Hooper collection does contain two original letters by Simpkins, written to his mother before he enlisted.

The Massachusetts Historical Society has many resources related to the 54th Massachusetts Infantry Regiment, both online and in our library, including manuscript collections, photograph collections, and print material. You’ll find a handy introduction here.

By Anna Clutterbuck-Cook, Reader Services

As we near the end of October here in Boston the trees are starting to turn vibrant yellows and oranges while the morning air is crisp with overnight frost. While many gardeners are digging up gardens and bringing plants indoors out of the cold for the winter ahead, it’s also time to think ahead to spring! Now is the season to plant tulips, daffodils, crocuses, and other flowering bulbs to rest through the winter months and flower with the return of light and warmth to the northern hemisphere. 

In the Massachusetts Historical Society’s collection of trade catalogs is an autumn catalog for 1865 from Washburn & Co. for Splendid Flowering Bulbs and Other Flowering Roots with Full Instructions for Cultivation. Inside are twenty-four pages of dense description and product listings by type: crocus, cyclamen, hyacinth, lilies, snowdrops, tulips, and more. Each price list is preceded by lush description: “The tulip,” offers the catalog, “of all bulbous flowers, is the most celebrated, popular, brilliant, and beautiful . . . easy of culture both in the conservatory or parlor and the open garden.” The Japanese lily, for which Washburn & Co. was lately rewarded with a silver medal by the Massachusetts Horticultural Society, is given pride of place as an illustration inside the front of the catalog. 

Gardeners are able to order a range of bulbs for around $1.00 per bulb, or $4-8 per dozen, depending upon the variety. The catalog also offers gardening tools including flower pots, baskets (“a splendid assortment”), weather vanes, preserving jars, and flower arrangements for weddings and funerals. “Orders by Express or Telegraph will receive prompt attention”!

Interested in gardening in times past, the Massachusetts Horticultural Society, or other aspects of flora and fauna in New England? Researchers are welcome to visit the library to consult this and other trade catalogs in our reading room. And don’t forget to venture out into this crisp autumn weather and enjoy the changing seasons in your own back yard.