We enjoy the hunt for authentic period antiques and architectural pieces to use in our home, and that hunt takes us up and down the East Coast, as there are many Victorian pieces to be found in old cities which once flourished. One foray led us to a small town in Connecticut where we were fortunate enough to meet Gladys Janecek, the heroine of a previous post. I became friends with Gladys, and enjoyed her company immensely. One visit back to Connecticut found me sitting in her kitchen drinking tea, eating cookies, and enjoying the stories of Gladys’ past on the dairy farm her family owned. I loved the feel of her little kitchen with the impeccably kept ancient cabinets and appliances. She was fastidious about the neatness of the place, and the lively tempo of her gravelly voice led us down a road to the past where a strong and independent woman was a rare thing indeed, and love was eternal without question. Her views on current events and politics were strongly rooted in her sense of family and morality, and I enjoyed her perspective on such things. Her sense of humor always lurked in the background, bubbling to the surface at random intervals, so that a serious moment in the conversation could suddenly turn into hilarity as she put an unexpected twist on the subject.
As always, Hoover, the ancient black Labrador Retriever lay attentively beneath our feet, constantly scanning for dropped morsels of cookies, quickly inhaling any actual or imagined crumbs that happened to make it to the level of his domicile. Hoover had the run of the place, and clearly was king of his domain. He was first to enter any room we moved toward, and stretched out at leisure on the floor awaiting the next exciting event; the exodus into another of the house’s beautifully designed and furnished rooms. The renaissance revival furniture Gladys had collected was in itself a subject of conversation, and Gladys enjoyed discussing the history of this piece or that, the home it had come from, her acquisition of the piece, and how she used it in her home.
One of the “pieces” of interest was the 1870s wool carpeting in her living room. This carpeting had once graced the parlor of the Wilcox-Parker mansion in Meriden Connecticut. It was a beautiful example of a Wilton carpet, woven from wool into twenty-seven-inch strips which were then sewn together by hand to create a continuous pattern. The intricate floral pattern had mellowed into a burgundy palette highlighted by cream and pale greens, browns, and blues. The richness of the wool pile had not been lost to wear, and the softness of it underfoot was firm enough to feel the floor beneath you, yet it yielded enough so that a walk across it felt as though your shoes had been turned into slippers. It was a rare survivor of the industrialization of such luxuries as carpeting, and the large repeat of the pattern was reminiscent of a time where the floor covering was meant to impress as much as the furnishings, wallpaper, lighting, and decorative objects.
Many carpet types were hand woven in the United States, but the first to be industrialized and mass-produced were the Ingrain carpets. These were flatweaves (without pile) that were reversible so that each side was the opposite color of the other. The color palette was typically limited to three or four colors.
Next came the invention of the machine that could weave carpets with pile. Originally powered by steam, these looms produced up to 7 colors which could be integrated into the pattern. Whichever color intended to be visible at each point of the pattern would be pulled through, and the others would be woven underneath, producing a rich palette of colors and intricate patterns, along with a dense backing. Of these carpets, the Brussels and the Wilton were created on the same looms, with the Brussels having a taller more lush pile and the Wilton carpets shaved so close that the pile had an almost velvety feel. During the 18th Century, prior to the industrialization of these carpets, hand-woven Brussels carpets could only be found in the homes of the wealthy, and Wilton carpets were a luxury that only a very few of the richest families could afford. However as a result of the 19th Century industrialization of these weavings, a well-to-do family could afford to show off their status with Wilton carpets in all of their main rooms downstairs, using the less expensive, but still luxurious, Brussels carpets for their own personal spaces upstairs.
Carpeting was an important functional as well as decorative element of the early American home, as even the most luxurious homes until that point had wood flooring that was rough and unvarnished. Flooring required a soft covering until the middle of the 19th Century when hardwood floors were able to be machine sanded smooth and even varnished. This new hardwood flooring treatment made it possible to use smaller carpets as accent pieces, or decoration, while allowing your hardwood floors to show their smooth varnished beauty around the borders. This revived the rug industry in the Middle East, and Oriental rugs became all the fashion, while machined rugs began to decline.
Our home has evidence of original carpeting installed in two areas. The double parlor was photographed in the 1880s and shows a beautiful patterned carpet, most likely a Wilton, as it was intended to be a grand space, designed to impress the visitors who would be entertained there. Beneath the 1940s termite-riddled and stained hardwoods was the heart-pine flooring — most likely the original flooring that sat beneath the 1880s carpeting in that photo. The second area was in one of the upstairs front bedrooms. When the modern carpeting was pulled up, rough heart-pine flooring was found underneath, and the fragment of a Wilton carpet remained beneath the feet of the heavy cast iron radiator, where the carpet installers had simply cut around it, rather than pick up the massive piece of metal.
As luck would have it, we were able to purchase the carpet from Gladys’ home when she moved, and it will fit perfectly in this upstairs bedroom. For now, the rough heart-pine boards await the period carpeting to cover it once again. But what to do about the double parlors? We added the item to our search list: “a massive amount of antique Wilton carpeting”, and went about our restoration.
Some years later, I attended an auction at a Knights of Pythias Temple in Frederick Maryland. The building was sold to a company that was going to convert the space into condominiums. The advertisement had boasted of some amazing stained glass windows which appeared to be Belcher windows, so I drove up to Frederick to take a look and bid on them. The windows were indeed Belcher — a rare find, and there were so many of them!
The Belcher Mosaic Glass Company was in operation from the 1850s through the 1890s. in the 1880s, the company received a patent that both made the company’s fortunes and led to its downfall at the same time. This new technique allowed many small pieces of glass to be placed on a heavy sheet of asbestos. When the pattern was positioned properly, a second sheet of asbestos was placed on top, essentially sandwiching the small pieces of glass. Next, a molten alloy of lead was poured into the sandwich, with the liquefied lead filling the voids between the small pieces of glass. After the entire piece was allowed to cool, and the asbestos pieces separated from the glass, the result was a structurally sound, aesthetically pleasing window that did not require hours of foiling to produce. It was genius!
The company was well known for their subtle color shifts across the field, and their use of jewels and baubles. The technique was versatile, strong, and weathered well. We have many of these in our collection, simply because the lighting effects are delightful, the patterns are unlike any other manufacturer, and their relative rarity makes them an exciting item to discover and chase.
This new method of creating beautiful patterns of stained glass windows using very small pieces of glass quickly and cost-efficiently should have revolutionized the stained glass industry. These windows would have been much more affordable than those created by hand with lead came or with copper foil, and yet only ten years after the technique was created, the company folded. It would seem a mystery except that the patent explains the fatal flaw in the technique. The liquid medium infused between the pieces was composed of a number of elements and compounds in order to allow it a low enough melting point so as not to heat-fracture the fragile glass around it as it was infused, yet allow it a tensile strength, when cooled, to support the weight of so much glass. These elements gave the product its common moniker: Mercury Mosaic windows. Yes, mercury. As in, heated mercury. Any chemistry major will tell you that the act of heating mercury has an unfortunate side effect of toxicity, as the liquid has a low boiling point which produces extremely toxic vapors. The workers creating these beautiful pieces of art began to sicken and die. Once the Company folded, no other windows of this type were manufactured, for obvious reasons. Fortunately, the cooled compound is stable and safe.
Incredibly, the City of Danville boasts a local home on Millionaire’s row with an original installation of Belcher Mosaic Company windows. These windows can be seen in all their glory at 802 Main Street on the corner of Main Street and Jefferson Place, in the transoms above the windows.
Although the stained glass windows brought me to the auction, I stepped into the large lodge hall on the upper floor, and my feet sank into a welcoming and velvety carpet that could be nothing other than a lovely antique Wilton carpet.
The carpet was in an amazing state of preservation. No surprise, given that the exterior windows were covered with stained glass, allowing only muted light, so that the fading of the colors was minimal and pleasing. A space toward the front of the hall, in front of the checker-boarded stage, showed an area where a large podium had been originally placed and recently removed. The original colors underneath were not much different than the rest of the carpeting. While the original brash dominating color of the gold had faded to a tawny brown, and the now-dominant pink was a comfortable hue; the blues had not lost much of their intensity and supplied a nice framework for the overall pattern. The carpet had been well-treated, and the hall it occupied was a ceremonial space only used on special occasions, unlike the rest of the building which was well-used, and badly modernized.
The “Turkish” pattern was in keeping with the decorative treatment of the space, and the traditional blue, pink and gold twisted into a Turkish knot was a classic design for the turn-of-the-Century. It was clear that we had to have this carpeting for our double parlor. I patiently waited for the auctioneer to turn his attention to this item so that I could have the opportunity to bid. The stained glass windows came and went, and we were able to have our pick of the bunch. At one point the ceremonial human skeleton came up in an ornate glass-topped coffin with beautiful bronze hardware. The bidding was weak on the skeleton, and it looked like it might go for a song. Quickly I got Tom on the cell phone, and excitedly announced that I was buying the ceremonial skeleton. I began to raise my bidder card, but the ascent was abruptly halted and reversed when Tom informed me that if I bought the skeleton, I would be buying myself a divorce. So much for a sense of adventure and love for quirky items. It sold for a mere $500, coffin and all, but it didn’t come home with me.
The auction drew on, and I began to get impatient for the final item I wanted to bid on: the carpet. I waved to get the auctioneer’s attention, gestured dramatically at the floor, and mouthed the words “what about the carpet?” The auctioneer looked at me, puzzled, then shrugged and called attention to the next lot, a set of tall wooden throne chairs. Patiently I waited, but the carpet did not appear to be on the auctioneer’s horizon. I waved and gestured again at the carpet and said “the carpet!” Again, the auctioneer appeared not to understand my intentions. I moved forward in the crowd, and repeated the request, and this time he paused, rolled his eyes, and announced: “Now selling the rug!” and the bidding began. People began looking around, trying to figure out which rug was for sale, as there were a number of beat-up Oriental rugs in the sale. Someone thought they were selling one of these and began bidding, but quickly stopped when they realized their mistake. A dealer caught on at the last minute, and threw out a bid or two, not having considered, or even taken stock of the item for sale, and quickly dropped out. In the end, we got the entire room of carpeting for very little money. It was perfect! Afterward, a number of dealers approached me, frustrated that they had not realized the carpet underfoot was actually for sale, and wanted to buy it from me right then and there. I politely declined, paid for my purchases, and started making arrangements for a truck and some guys for the following weekend to pick it up.
Some time later, I had all of this beautiful antique carpeting assembled in our house, and I was preparing it for storage. Wool carpets are a feast for moths, and I knew it would be some time before we would be able to install these pieces, so I was thoroughly vacuuming them, laying down layers of newspaper and moth balls between more layers of newspaper, and rolling them tight. The final wrapping was a thick burrito of plastic wrap to hold in the gas of the moth balls, protect them from dirt, and make them easier to move around.
By the fourth or fifth hour of vacuuming, newspapering, mothballing, newspapering, rolling, and wrapping, I was becoming weary of the task when I started on the first section of the burgundy floral carpet we had purchased from Gladys. I briefly took a trip down memory lane as I unrolled the carpet to find a fine layer of black dog hair, and smiled at my recollection of Gladys’ ancient black Labrador, Hoover. Since I had given up on household vacuum cleaners over a decade ago, my powerful Shop Vac was on duty for this task, however even the sucking strength of this vacuum seemed to do little against all of these black hairs deeply embedded in the carpet. I resorted to a vigorous back-and-forth scrubbing of the fibers with ribbed vacuum attachment, which seemed to work after a fashion. The treatment was effective, but left me breathless, sweating, and having to stop every few minutes as my muscles began to quiver from the effort. At one point Tom came upon this scene and asked me how it was going. My breathless and exhausted response was to gesture dramatically toward the carpet and the vacuum and let out an exasperated “Hoover!” Not one to endure anything even remotely perceived as complaining, he calmly looked at me, surveyed the scene skeptically, and tersely corrected me: “I’m pretty sure that’s a Shop Vac.” He promptly turned on his heel and headed back to his own project. I fell over laughing, and was pretty much done for the day at that point.
I look forward to the day when these carpets are installed in our house and we can continue to enjoy them as generations before us have done. Until then, we are still on the lookout for more antique carpeting, and you never know where some might show up.
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.
Another fabulous story! Your score (score!) of the Wilton carpet is simply amazing!
Came upon your blog by accident, a very welcome one.
Loved your story, and writing!
We purchased a 1930 handyman helper in 1996; it still has all of the original stained glass windows & skylights, and, unfortunately, the "potential" it had when we bought it. We found out that old houses set their own priorities.
Diana ONEILL
Long Beach, NY
I have restored a number of Belcher mosaic windows over the years. And while some people refer to them as "mercury mosaic" windows, there is no evidence that mercury was used in the manufacturing process. There were a number of other nasty things used and many workers did get sick forcing the closing of the company. Victor Rothman for Stained Glass, Yonkers NY
Ok I really am curious…what constitutes a "good deal" on a room full of carpet? I've literally never comprehended the idea of buying antique wall to wall carpet so I don't even know a ball park. $5/sqft? $500/sqft? What's the range?
However, there are certain things that you should be on the lookout for when choosing the right roofing company. Choosing reputable roofing companies in ct can make all the difference.
This comment has been removed by the author.