Developing Iron Deficieny

It all began at a small auction in Frederick, Maryland, over 20 years ago, and a whimsical architectural feature that caught my fancy.  Surrounded by a circlet of Acanthus leaves, a trio of egrets stood among the reeds, congregating around the central stalk of an undulating canopy, with scalloped edges leading back in folds toward the center to support a rock formation sprouting a myriad of Calla Lilies with their blooms scattered among their leaves.  The design was artful and balanced, the execution was articulate and minutely detailed, so that the whole piece presented a peaceful repose of natural beauty.  And I wanted it.  Needed it.  Had to have it!

The problem: it was an antique fountain, 9 feet across, five feet tall, and made entirely from cast iron, weighing over 1,000 pounds, and would ultimately take 9 strong men to lift it onto the back of a flatbed truck for delivery.

My ever-patient and accommodating husband agreed that we could consider it; we could talk about it in the morning.  Most of my fancies are fleeting, gone within a day, and my excitement would be sparked anew on another subject.  This, however, proved somewhat different, as my sleep was punctuated by visions of this fountain, the pull of the iron, the attraction to the metal.  The substance of it was simply intoxicating, and by morning it was all I could think about.  I awoke with visions of egrets inhabiting my back yard, plans for paint removal and restoration of the metal.  Without even realizing what had happened, I was addicted; pure and simple.

From that point on, Tom has had to patiently acknowledge and accommodate my Iron Deficiency.  He has come to a simple conclusion about my endless need for old iron: if an object requires a forklift to move and has a crusty painted surface with rust bleeding through, then it will most certainly be something CARLA MUST HAVE!  While he paints the portrait of a long-suffering spouse, I do believe he also sees what I see in the metal, as he indulges my pleadings far more often than he refuses them, and occasionally has surprised me with a piece here and there.

My need for rusty metal has also added many projects to the overall scope of our home that we had never envisioned, or budgeted for, but the end results have been more than satisfying.  One example of this is the antique fence surrounding our front yard, which you can read more about in my blog by clicking here from January 13, 2012.

Another fence, more recently installed, graces the side yard.  While the front fence is a cast-iron fence, the one in along the side is wrought iron.  Cast iron consists of creating a mold which is the “negative” of the design.  The molten metal is then poured into that mold to eventually cool and form the resulting “positive” design, which is very crystalline in structure, with many impurities, and subject to fractures if re-heated.  Cast iron is notoriously difficult to repair when damaged, because when the item is heated during the welding process, the crystalline structure is subject to fracturing along the boundary where the heated and cold metals occur.  It is, however, the most delicate, detailed and versatile of materials, limited only by the imagination of the designer. 

Wrought iron, on the other hand, is a very sturdy chemical structure, as the metal is heated, folded over on itself, and hammered into shape.  This repeated process of heating, folding, and hammering the metal gets rid of the impurities, and this metal has a strength to it, without any fracture lines like the crystalline character of cast iron.  However, it can lack the delicate details that you can get with cast iron, as any decorative features have to be beaten into the metal. 

The more elaborate a wrought iron feature, the more hard work and labor by a skilled craftsman that went into it.  Every bend and curl has to match those that came before to allow the pattern to maintain its integrity. Each leaf, carefully constructed, each clasp exactingly worked, so that the uniformity and delicacy of the end result is pleasing to the eye, yet well-constructed.

While both cast iron and wrought iron have their own unique character and differences, I could never choose one over the other — I love them both for different reasons.  I guess the main thing I appreciate about antique iron is the fragility of such a seemingly-strong material.  Looking through old postcards and photographs, you see a myriad of fountains, fences, architectural iron, and decorative garden elements that no longer exist.  How this amazingly durable material failed to survive into the future is the mystery for me.  While the WWII war effort scrap drives carried off its share of garden fences, I wonder what happened to all of the fountains, the porches, the garden urns and even the weather vanes. I see each surviving piece as a special treasure, to be carefully restored as a gift for future generations to enjoy.

One of the things I really appreciated about our house was the iron that decorated it.  From the cast iron porch, which we reconstructed according to the photographs given to us by the family (See here)  to the decorative roof cresting, and the beautiful cast iron fire backs.

When we first purchased the home at 878 Main Street, we found a small portion of roof cresting in the attic, with finials at each end.  After examining some old photographs, it was clear that this was the original pattern that used to completely surround the entire mansard roof of the home.  After a long search and many cost estimates, we finally chose a foundry to reproduce these reasonably. 

The re-installation effort proved to be the last straw with “Iron Guy” who had previously worked on sandblasting the cast iron elements we had collected from salvage yards in order to re-construct the front porch.  We had the roof cresting delivered to his shop, anticipating that he would be the one to install them.

 After waiting months for a quote, he finally let us know what he would charge for the job, and frankly, the price was outrageous.  We politely declined, and I drove by his workshop with the station wagon to pick up our roof cresting, but was told that before I could take them I would have to pay a “storage fee” for the months that he “stored” our metal for us while he was calculating a quote.  The local police were not much help, deeming this a “contractual dispute” and refusing to intervene.  Somehow the company we eventually hired to install the roof cresting managed to wrestle our iron from his possession.  It was exhilarating to see another original metal feature, once lost to time, restored to its former glory.

One exciting find was that almost all of the fireplaces in the house were lined with cast iron fire backs.  As the original heat for this home was coal burning in the fireplaces, it was essential that these fire backs were there to reflect and throw the heat back into the room.  Though they were subject to years of coal-burning fires, they were all intact, and the details in the designs are just as beautiful today as when they were first cast.  Each room had a different design, and even the flanking side panel pieces were still in place.

 A foliage scene with an eagle confronting a snake

A household scene of a young couple dancing, flanked by musical putti

A scene of familial contentment, father mother and infant, older child stoking the fire

My particular favorite, Vulcan with his hammer at his forge, flanked by rocky waterfalls

While seeking out old iron, I began to read and research to discover who the country’s preeminent manufacturers were, and what they were producing.  Resources were few, as most books on Victorian architecture or furniture barely touched on the metalwork of the time.  Over time I collected enough information to guide me.  The names of J. W. Fiske, J. L. Mott, Elihu Vedder, Samuel Yellin and Oscar Bach, among others, became familiar names.  I admired their works, seeking them out in museums and historic homes and gardens.  As it turns out, the first cast iron fountain we purchased, the three egrets, was designed and cast by J.W. Fiske.  We found the foundry stamp inside the central column when we took it apart for restoration.

I became almost obsessed with J.W. Fiske, logging sales results for every auctioned item I could find, stalking the websites of Victorian homes across the country, looking through the photos for glimpses of a fountain, a fence, even garden furniture designed by this man.  I looked at old maps where his foundry was located in New York, and bought old Fiske fountain design catalogs, marveling at their beauty and delicacy, and memorizing their forms so that I could recognize them if I ever were fortunate enough to see one in person.

A trip through upstate New York almost left me in an auto wreck as I was startled, while driving, by the sudden looming presence of a “catalog” fountain I thought I would never see.  There in the center square of Poughkeepsie, NY, their Soldier’s Fountain was a Fiske of extraordinary portions.  The catalog never indicated how large this piece was, and I was awed by its splendor.  In time, I found another, just like it, in the center of Forsyth Park in Savannah, Georgia.

As my obsession with J.W. Fiske grew, so did my collection of his iron.  Mostly just a little piece here and there, but eventually another fountain presented itself at an auction in upstate New York.  This was a piece we had seen at one of the New York City Armory Antiques shows, which was unaffordable at that time.  It came up for a ridiculously reduced price, and we were able to purchase it at the auction.  As a bonus, it was the fountain on the cover of one of the old J.W. Fiske catalogs I had collected.

Needless to say, I was ecstatic.  It had already been carefully restored, and the zinc heron on the top was a rare bird, indeed.  To find one at all was an accomplishment, but to have one still attached to its original fountain was impressive.  As of now, this waits patiently in my car port for the day when we can properly install it.  Our hope is that the empty lot next door will one day be ours and that we can create a dream garden with this piece as the centerpiece.  For now, it is safe, and another few years under a tarp won’t make a difference to this piece of ancient metal.
 
Even still, I hungered to learn more about metal works produced in this country around the turn of the century, but resources remained scarce.  Thus, we were excited to find an article in one of our antiques magazines regarding the subject, which included a large section dedicated to J.W. Fiske.  Tom claimed it first, so I had to be patient and wait until he was done.  As he typically tries to test the boundaries of my gullibility, I laughed at him when he informed me that J.W. Fiske had gone to the same high school that I had attended.  Smirking, he handed me the article.  To my surprise and delight, I discovered that this artist, captain of industry, and wildly successful man, did indeed attend my Alma Mater, Westford Academy in Westford Massachusetts.  In fact, his family had lived in Chelmsford, MA, the next town over, since colonial times, and the Fiske house still sits in the Center of old Chelmsford, Massachusetts.  I now felt closer than ever to this amazing man and his legacy.
As my addiction to old metal grew stronger, it began to branch out.  I was now finding myself drawn to old copper, to zinc, and even bronzes.  The more I saw, the more enamored of the materials I became, as I realized their versatility, delicacy, beauty and strength.  I would often stop the car during trips to admire a cast-iron building front, or the copper finials on a church, and even park myself in front of random homes, photographing the fountains, urns, and other fantastical garden pieces overflowing with flowers or trickling with water.
 
On a trip around Pittsburgh, we stumbled upon an amazing survivor in a Cannonsburg antique shop; a zinc gryphon that used to perch atop the entrance of an 1870s bank.  While the manufacturer of the piece was unknown, the sign around his neck clearly stated that he was “NOT FOR SALE”.  After inquiring with the proprietor, it was clear that he would never be mine. 
As it turns out, Pittsburgh is a really interesting old city and became a frequent weekend destination, so I was able to visit the gryphon many times over the years as we explored that city and its’ surrounding areas.  In time, we purchased many things from this particular antique shop, as well.  The proprietor, Jim Osella was an interesting man — he had an eye for “beauty-full” things, and told some incredible stories about finds he had made over the years.  With him, what you see is what you get; he was plain spoken, honest, and knowledgeable beyond belief.  We got to know him quite well, visited his home and met his family, including the most ancient yorkshire terrier who was no bigger than a rabbit.  We both were lovers of Stained Glass, and in particular Rudy Brothers glass — a subject for another post.  That common ground has been the source of many friendships over the years, and Jim was one of them. 
 
One of our old adages is that you can always tell when an antique dealer is lying because his lips are moving.  Jim Osella was one rare exception to that rule — he was always straight-up on everything, and we really appreciated and valued that in him.
 
On a random visit, more than a decade after first discovering his shop, we were sitting with Jim at his home discussing his latest finds, enjoying an iced tea and beautiful spring weather, watching a pair of birds building a nest on his porch.  At one point, he told us about how he was thinking of slowing down a bit, spending more time in a warmer place for the Winters.  He spoke of downsizing. He suddenly asked if we were still interested in the zinc gryphon.  My heart almost stopped, and the look on my face was all Tom needed to know that we had to try for it.  We took a little walk together, just the two of us, around Jim’s pond and down to the barns. We discussed the value of the piece and what it would take to purchase it.  We re-convened on the porch; the birds unperturbed by our presence, carried on in their task.
 
Making our best offer, in light of our knowledge of the market value of such a piece, I hadn’t realized that I had been holding my breath.  It took Jim a long time to respond, as he sat and considered and thought.  Finally I felt dizzy and overly-warm and had to breathe.  Jim’s response took both of us by surprise.  He spoke slowly and softly, his eyes focused on a spot just beyond his feet.  “Now, you guys don’t really want to spend that much money today. Why don’t you make me a lower offer.”  We insisted that our offer was what we would expect to pay if this had come up at an auction, and he acknowledged the fact, but was firm in insisting that we agree on a lower price.  In the end, the gryphon came home in our station wagon and has found a permanent home, while our respect and admiration for Jim Osella will never waver.
 
Unfortunately, my lust for zinc gryphons only got stronger after this experience, and I kept looking for another…years went by, until we found one up for auction in New York, and he was a J.W. Fiske creation! You can imagine my excitement.
After a successful bid, we discovered his checkered past.  He had previously been installed at Eldorado, an 1890s resort on the Palisades, overlooking what is now the mid-Manhattan theatre district.  This was the realm of the Palisades Amusement and Exhibition Company which created the spectacle of the Eldorado amphitheater, able to accommodate a thousand performers at one time.  This resort had a large collection of fantastical buildings built with a sweeping panoramic backdrop of the Hudson river with Manhattan in the background.  With Moorish architecture, the grounds were strewn with fountains and picturesque walks and boasted a Rhenish castle with views overlooking the Hudson river where people could congregate and dine.
 
While most of the buildings of this 1890s fantasy playground either burned or crumbled over time, a few buildings remained, including the the entrance building where this survivor remained, once one of a pair, standing watch until the late 1970s.  One night in May of 1979, under the cover of darkness, he was spirited away; stolen!  An “Art Cop” was hired to locate him, as his owner was so distraught by the loss of such a gallant beast that he refused to give up the search for him and offered a hefty reward for information leading to its recovery.
 
Fortunately for the owner, the Weehawken police managed to nab the individuals involved in the theft, and returned the gryphon to its rightful owner, who presented the local police with an award for their hard work and successful effort.  The local newspapers of the day commemorated the event.
We feel fortunate to be a part of this creature’s history and the current caretakers of such a rare mythical beast.  Hopefully his wandering nature has been put to an end.  For now he graces the living room of our home in Falls Church until he can be placed in our home in Danville, and properly put to use, as the interesting crown upon his head is, in fact, a light fixture. 
 
For now, this will suffice to tell the story of my Iron Deficiency, as the full tale would fill volumes. The stories of the myriad of pieces we have collected and their histories and meticulous restoration would only be half of the tale, as the stories of the ones that “got away” would be just as interesting.  Needless to say, Tom puts up with this ailment as best as he can, and graciously accommodates me when the pull of the metal gets too strong for me to resist, until we are seeking the assistance of a forklift once again.
Carla Minosh

While I am new to Blogging, I have always enjoyed sharing the stories of my crazy life, so this is simply another medium to share, and hopefully entertain and enrich others. Perhaps you can feel thankful that your life is so steady and predictable after reading these, perhaps you can appreciate the insanity and wish you had more of it in your life. Either way, the crazy tales are all true (to the best of my spotty recollection) and simply tell the tale of a life full of exploration, enthusiasm, curiosity and hard work. I hope you all enjoy being a part of the journey.

Share with your friends

5 thoughts on “Developing Iron Deficieny”

  1. I write a blog about cast iron drinking fountains and have posted a few Fiske designs with many more to do. I am currently researching the fountian on Block Island. If I send you a photo of it, could you kindly check to see if it is in one of the Fiske catalogs?

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *