The New York 400 – Crème de la Crème

By Suzanne Norquist

The Gilded Age spanned from 1870 to 1910—a time for new millionaires to climb the social ladder in the United States, particularly in New York City. They made their money in industry, railroads, mining, and such—many from humble beginnings.

Without a monarchy, as in Europe, the Americans needed another way to decide who was worthy. No one in high standing wanted an uncouth miner or tradesman in their midst, regardless of their fortune, and poor relations must be shunned.

A group of A-listers known as the New York 400 took on the role. They threw lavish balls, dinners, and costume parties. The media and general population treated them like royalty or movie stars, even in the far reaches of the country.

The following article appeared in the February 17, 1891, edition of The Herald Democrat, Leadville, Colorado.

Several of the leading members of the celebrated 400 left for Philadelphia today to attend the marriage of John Jacob Astor to Miss Ava Willing, which will be celebrated tomorrow morning. Mr. Astor, the father of the groom, has returned from England to attend the ceremony.

This reads like news of the rich and famous today.

They set social trends. The Idaho Springs Mining Gazette, Idaho Springs, Colorado, January 29, 1914, reports that:

Mrs. Fish Banishes Tango from “400”

The Tango is dead so far as the New York “400” is concerned. It was buried at Mrs. Stuyvesant Fish’s Ball.

Apparently, the social elite didn’t ostracize people for having odd names. Mr. Stuyvesant Fish was a wealthy businessman. His wife, Mamie, a leader in the 400, held the ball that killed the Tango among their peers.

The exclusive group didn’t even automatically include the first lady of the United States. She needed to earn her place. The Rocky Mountain News, Denver, Colorado, May 5, 1889, printed this tidbit.

Maude—Mrs. Cleveland’s advancement into social prominence has been wonderfully rapid, hasn’t it?

Mabel—Why so?

“Why lately, she was only the first lady of the land, and now she’s a member of the New York 400.”

Like with today’s celebrities, not everyone honored and respected them. The Colorado Daily Chieftain, Pueblo, Colorado, December 31, 1895, says this.

The New York’s 400 is dreadfully flurried because Mrs. Potter Palmer, “an innkeeper’s wife,” has rented a handsome cottage at Newport for next summer. As Mrs. Palmer has never figured in any scandal, and as she is a woman of unusual gifts of beauty and intellect, she will certainly be out of place at the fashionable resort. The wonder is that she cares to associate with the New Yorkers.

Who came up with the idea of the New York 400, anyway?

Many society matrons vied for the position of gatekeeper. Who wouldn’t want to control the wealthy elite? However, Caroline Astor, counseled by distant cousin Ward McAllister, took that role. The number 400 was rumored to be the number her ballroom would hold. Alternatively, Mr. McAllister claimed that it was the number of wealthy people who could be trusted to behave appropriately in polite company.

Caroline Astor came from a wealthy founding family of New York. Her husband, William, brought money to the union, but not the same pedigree. His grandfather had been a simple fur trader. William also brought his philandering ways, leaving Caroline to her own devices.

Wealthy and lonely, she filled her days by hosting elaborate dinners and parties. Though everyone longed to be invited, she valued lineage, wealth, and decorum. Her guest list boasted only the best of the best.

When it was time for her daughters to come out, she recruited Mr. McAllister as an advisor. He had spent time in Europe and knew the proper way of doing things. Never mind that his family hadn’t been particularly prominent, and he didn’t have that much money. He touted himself as an expert, and he knew how to throw a good party.

Mrs. Astor preferred to include only those who were four generations removed from the origin of their wealth. She made an exception for her husband, as his grandfather had been a simple trapper. Mr. McAlister added a number of the newly wealthy to the list, mostly industrialist friends. Old money families were known as the “nobs” and new money families were known as the “swells.”

The Vanderbilts, Carnages, Rockefellers, Gettys, and Fords were among the swells. Some of them had to fight to be included in the group. Ava Belmont (who was Ava Vanderbilt at the time) manipulated her way in.

Being snubbed by Mrs. Astor, Mrs. Vanderbilt constructed a mansion and invited nearly 1000 guests to her housewarming party. She excluded the Astors. One of the Astor daughters desperately wanted to attend and convinced her mother to pay a call to Mrs. Vanderbilt. The Astors attended the gathering, and the Vanderbilts became part of the New York 400.

By the time Caroline Astor passed away in 1908, the elite balls and dinners in wealthy homes were giving way to functions at luxury hotels where anyone could buy their way in. Thus ended the era of the New York 400.

However, we only have to check the magazines in the grocery check-out aisle to see that Americans still clamber for news of the current crème de la crème of society.

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”Mending Sarah’s Heart” in the Thimbles and Threads Collection

Four historical romances celebrating the arts of sewing and quilting.

Mending Sarah’s Heart by Suzanne Norquist

Rockledge, Colorado, 1884

Sarah seeks a quiet life as a seamstress. She doesn’t need anyone, especially her dead husband’s partner. If only the Emporium of Fashion would stop stealing her customers, and the local hoodlums would leave her sons alone. When she rejects her husband’s share of the mine, his partner Jack seeks to serve her through other means. But will his efforts only push her further away?

 

Suzanne Norquist is the author of two novellas, “A Song for Rose” in A Bouquet of Brides Collection and “Mending Sarah’s Heart” in the Thimbles and Threads Collection. Everything fascinates her. She has worked as a chemist, professor, financial analyst, and even earned a doctorate in economics. Research feeds her curiosity, and she shares the adventure with her readers. She lives in New Mexico with her mining engineer husband and has two grown children. When not writing, she explores the mountains, hikes, and attends kickboxing class.

 

Mail Me A Home

By Suzanne Norquist

My sister lives in a Sears “kit house” built in 1920. With lovely hardwood floors and decorative moldings, it’s hard to believe it originally came by mail. 

In the early 1900s, thousands of people ordered homes from a catalog and assembled them on the site. Many of these houses are still around today.

The Industrial Revolution allowed people to purchase an unprecedented array of manufactured goods. With railroads crisscrossing the country, merchandise could be shipped everywhere.

Montgomery Ward and Sears, Roebuck & Co. both had thriving mail-order catalog businesses, selling a wide range of products. However, they were not the first to sell complete homes by mail. Sears originally sold patterns and blueprints but not the whole package.

That honor went to Aladdin Homes, started as North American Construction Company in 1906. Two brothers were inspired by a business selling mail-order boat kits. Why not houses?

The Aladdin name came from the story of a genie who could build a palace in a single night.

Apparently, Ford Motor Company’s management suggested they simplify the manufacturing process by selling only one model of home. That didn’t happen. They offered dozens of options, because what did a car company know about houses. Ford’s idea of consumer choice was that people could have a Model T in any color they wanted, as long as it was black.

From this small Grayson Home, which sold for about $500 in 1915 . . .

. . . to fancier homes like the Richmond, which sold for $1500 that same year.

Although kits included most materials, some things like foundations, masonry work, and bricks couldn’t be shipped. The catalog house included plans for homeowners to use at the site.

Interiors included hardwood and beveled glass features.

Roomy closets were an important selling point, as were built-in buffets, shelves, and bureaus.

Walls were made from plaster board, and customers received a plaster “filler kit” to smooth out the surfaces.

“Aladdin plaster board is the single greatest achievement in the builder’s craft in the last generation.” – 1915 Aladdin Catalog

Customers could choose as many different paints and colors as they wanted for various parts of the house. “You will be sent on request our large color card of many beautiful colors.”

Selecting a house from a catalog must have been quite an adventure.

Sears, Montgomery Ward, and others entered the house kit business. They each employed a large design staff . . .

. . . and maintained a manufacturing facility.

Customers could add items like lights . . .

. . . and bathroom fixtures.

In some places, kit homes filled entire neighborhoods or towns, especially if the area experienced rapid growth.

Companies also offered other types of buildings, such as barns and gas stations.

The Great Depression and World War II took a toll on the mail-order home industry. Sales dropped during the Depression. With large factories to maintain, companies struggled to stay afloat.

During World War II, the demand for lumber exploded, and the government limited non-essential construction. Companies couldn’t get wood to make the home kits. Sears had to refund a number of customer deposits because they couldn’t fulfill orders. They closed their home business.

Over the years, changes in building materials and manufacturing processes took their toll, but Aladdin stayed in business until 1981.

It’s always fun to go through historic districts and spot the mail-order homes. 

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”Mending Sarah’s Heart” in the Thimbles and Threads Collection

Four historical romances celebrating the arts of sewing and quilting.

Mending Sarah’s Heart by Suzanne Norquist

Rockledge, Colorado, 1884

Sarah seeks a quiet life as a seamstress. She doesn’t need anyone, especially her dead husband’s partner. If only the Emporium of Fashion would stop stealing her customers, and the local hoodlums would leave her sons alone. When she rejects her husband’s share of the mine, his partner Jack seeks to serve her through other means. But will his efforts only push her further away?

Suzanne Norquist is the author of two novellas, “A Song for Rose” in A Bouquet of Brides Collection and “Mending Sarah’s Heart” in the Thimbles and Threads Collection. Everything fascinates her. She has worked as a chemist, professor, financial analyst, and even earned a doctorate in economics. Research feeds her curiosity, and she shares the adventure with her readers. She lives in New Mexico with her mining engineer husband and has two grown children. When not writing, she explores the mountains, hikes, and attends kickboxing class.

 

A Tidy Bottom For A Happy Baby

 

By Suzanne Norquist

As a new grandmother, I find myself discussing diapers with my daughter. Like an old woman, I say things like, “In my day, there were rubber pants . . . but they were made of plastic, not rubber.”

And, “Think of those old-time pictures where small children wore no pants at all.” She says, “No thanks” to that mess. At the same time, I realize that many climates are too cold for bare bottoms.

And so here is a blog about the history of diapers.

In warm climates, parents often left their babies’ bottoms bare. To prevent messes, they learned how to anticipate when the child needed to go. There is a technique called “elimination communication,” which sounds more like potty training for parents. This method was used until recently in China. When the need arose, a mother could hold the baby over a pot or out in the street.

In cold climates, parents made a diaper out of animal skin lined with moss or grass. Where cloth was available, it would be layered to keep the child clean. Europeans swaddled their babies in linen. Although this sounds cozy, the fabric wasn’t changed often or cleaned well. No one knew that cleanliness prevented diseases.

Cloth diapers, as we think of them, didn’t really appear until the late 1800s. With the Industrial Revolution, more people had nice furniture to protect. At that time, machines could make cloth, and safety pins had been invented. In 1887, Marie Allen created the first mass-produced cloth diapers in the United States.

Because people had learned about germs, they boiled diapers and hung them out to dry.

Of course, mothers and seamstresses continued to refine the design, even if only within their small circle. In an 1897 article in the Rocky Mountain News, Denver, CO, Mrs. Bertha Janet Gunn describes concerns about most diapers.

“A heavy diaper, for instance, which always holds the child’s legs out, or the flannel bellyband which is pulled so tightly around its yielding little body, and fastened with pins that are forever in danger of slipping out and sticking into its delicate flesh.”

She created patterns to solve these problems and sold both patterns and pre-made diapers.

“My diaper is cut on the bias, so the seat is larger and baggy, and there is very little cloth to fold between the legs, so the little legs can lie straight out.”

Accidents were common since cloth doesn’t stop all moisture from leaking out. In the 1920s, parents often put rubber pants over the fabric. However, rubber tended to irritate the skin. In the 1950s, plastic pants replaced them, but they were still called “rubber pants.”

Newspaper advertisements in the early 1900s promoted various types of diapers, including double diapers, linen diapers, cotton diapers, and rubber diapers.

Disposable ones improved the quality of life for generations of moms and babies. In the 1940s, when World War II caused a shortage of cotton, moms got creative, leading to the invention of the disposable diaper. Several people are credited with the idea.

Some of the first efforts included a Swedish paper company that attempted to use sheets of tissue pads. Rubber pants kept it all in, but it resulted in mushy balls of paper. A Scottish woman used old parachutes for the outside with cellulose wadding and cotton wool inside. This product never took off.

In the late 1940s, Marion Donovan used shower curtain material to create a leak-proof diaper cover. Her design included snap fasteners instead of safety pins. This product, known as the Boater because it resembled a boat, was used with cloth diapers. However, it inspired disposable diaper makers. Layered tissue paper (which must be sturdier than what the Swedish paper company used) could be used instead of cloth. 

In 1961, Procter and Gamble brought Pampers to market. Employee and grandfather Vic Mills saw room for improvement in existing products. He used cellulose instead of paper fibers for better absorption.

Over time, other companies entered the market. Improvements included increased absorbency, an hourglass shape, elastic in the legs, biodegradable materials, and additional features.

Now, parents can choose between improved versions of cloth diapers or disposables. New moms, like my daughter, will never know the frustration of pinning an ill-fitting cloth diaper on her baby and pulling a plastic pant over the top.

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”Mending Sarah’s Heart” in the Thimbles and Threads Collection

Four historical romances celebrating the arts of sewing and quilting.

Mending Sarah’s Heart by Suzanne Norquist

Rockledge, Colorado, 1884

Sarah seeks a quiet life as a seamstress. She doesn’t need anyone, especially her dead husband’s partner. If only the Emporium of Fashion would stop stealing her customers, and the local hoodlums would leave her sons alone. When she rejects her husband’s share of the mine, his partner Jack seeks to serve her through other means. But will his efforts only push her further away?

Suzanne Norquist is the author of two novellas, “A Song for Rose” in A Bouquet of Brides Collection and “Mending Sarah’s Heart” in the Thimbles and Threads Collection. Everything fascinates her. She has worked as a chemist, professor, financial analyst, and even earned a doctorate in economics. Research feeds her curiosity, and she shares the adventure with her readers. She lives in New Mexico with her mining engineer husband and has two grown children. When not writing, she explores the mountains, hikes, and attends kickboxing class.

 

Shopping on the Ladies’ Mile

 By Suzanne Norquist

One hundred years before teens started hanging out at the mall, women took carriages and the elevated train to socialize and shop on the “Ladies’ Mile” in New York City.

The end of the 1800s was known as the Gilded Age—a time of great prosperity. The rich flaunted their wealth, and the middle class could afford more than ever before. With the Industrial Revolution in full swing, an abundance of mass-produced goods filled store shelves.

Massive department stores sprouted in major cities around the world. Each one could have been a modern mall in itself. Not only did they offer shopping, but their restaurants and tea rooms provided places for socializing.

New York’s high society moved uptown, creating a shopping district on Fifth Avenue. In 1860, when the Prince of Wales stayed at a Fifth Avenue hotel, everyone knew the area was fit for royalty.

In 1862, A.T. Steward relocated his department store to the area and built a massive six-story structure known as the Iron Palace. With a cast-iron construction, massive windows filled with displays lined the street. The use of cast iron instead of bricks made such large window openings possible.

This building served as a tourist attraction and anchored the “Ladies’ Mile” located between Fourteenth and Twenty-Third Streets along Sixth Avenue and Broadway.

Entertainment venues also moved to the area. In 1866, Steinway constructed a concert hall nearby. The building also housed a piano sales floor.

In 1869, Arnold Constable and Company entered the market with high-end fashions. Their building, referred to as “The Palace of Trade” by the newspapers, was the second-largest dry-goods store in the city at the time.

That same year, Tiffany & Company constructed a building with 16-foot cast-iron arches. Known as the “Palace of Jewels,” it was the largest jewelry store in the world.

With such a concentration of businesses and their associated security staff, the area was considered safe for ladies without male escorts. A woman could spend the day with her friends shopping, eating, and socializing—much like teens at a shopping mall.

The district grew with the arrival of Lord and Taylor in 1870. This massive iron building also sported large glass display windows. In fact, Lord and Taylor pioneered Christmas window displays for marketing—a New York tradition.

The “Ladies Mile” shopping district drew in most customers by carriage, but in 1878, the elevated train (the El) arrived, making it easier for middle-class ladies to access the experience.

Other businesses got into the action. Best and Co., specializing in children’s clothing, went in. They were the first to have separate departments for boys and girls, as well as for different accessories.

The prestigious furniture and home décor store W & J Sloan located there in 1882. And the Gorham Silver Company, which sold jewelry, tableware, and other silver items, added an opulent Queen Anne-style building in 1884.

The result was “block after block of glittering ladies’ stores” as described in the book Time and Again, by Jack Finney. The district became a cultural icon.

After World War I, the wealthy of New York society moved farther away from the masses, and the businesses followed. The Guided Age ended, and society changed.

Today’s teenagers think they invented the mall culture. However, over a hundred years ago, women clustered, no doubt creating their own fond memories of days spent on the “Ladies' Mile”.

***

 

”Mending Sarah’s Heart” in the Thimbles and Threads Collection

Four historical romances celebrating the arts of sewing and quilting.

Mending Sarah’s Heart by Suzanne Norquist

Rockledge, Colorado, 1884

Sarah seeks a quiet life as a seamstress. She doesn’t need anyone, especially her dead husband’s partner. If only the Emporium of Fashion would stop stealing her customers, and the local hoodlums would leave her sons alone. When she rejects her husband’s share of the mine, his partner Jack seeks to serve her through other means. But will his efforts only push her further away?

 

Suzanne Norquist is the author of two novellas, “A Song for Rose” in A Bouquet of Brides Collection and “Mending Sarah’s Heart” in the Thimbles and Threads Collection. Everything fascinates her. She has worked as a chemist, professor, financial analyst, and even earned a doctorate in economics. Research feeds her curiosity, and she shares the adventure with her readers. She lives in New Mexico with her mining engineer husband and has two grown children. When not writing, she explores the mountains, hikes, and attends kickboxing class.

 

Art As An Olympic Event

 

By Suzanne Norquist

When I think of the Olympics, toned athletes and physical strength come to mind—sports competitions where results can be objectively measured. However, for a time in modern Olympic history, medals were also awarded to artists in the areas of painting, sculpture, music, literature, and architecture.

When the modern games started in 1896, the founder of the International Olympic Committee (IOC), Baron Pierre de Coubertin, believed art should be included. It had been part of the ancient Greek events because exercising the body and mind created harmony. A well-rounded individual would pursue both activities.

The baron couldn’t incorporate the creative events until the 1912 games, and only thirty-five artists participated that year. The artistic competitions didn’t achieve the goal of harmonizing body and mind since few individuals competed in both sports and art.

Only two athletes won medals in both. In 1912, American Walter Winans won a gold medal for the sculpture of a horse pulling a chariot and a silver medal for sharpshooting. Hungarian Alfréd Hajós won a silver medal in town planning design in 1924 after winning two gold medals in 1896 for swimming.

The artistic community didn’t embrace the competition since it wasn’t their idea. All of the art had to be sports-related. How many ways were there to sculpt or paint athletes? And what kind of music qualified?

In 1932, Canadian Tait McKenzie entered four sculptures of shot putters. “Shot Putter Preparing.” “Shot Putter Resting.” “Shot Putter Ready.” “Shot Putter The Hop.” He didn’t receive medals for any of these. However, he won a bronze medal for something called “Shield of the Athletes.”

That same year, Belgian painter Nelly Degouy submitted paintings entitled “Do Exercise I” through “Do Exercise VIII.” None of these won awards. Others entered similar sets of work. Individual paintings were titled things like “Ice Hockey,” “Golf,” “Rugby,” and “The Ski Jumper.” More curious titles included “Camping,” “Sun Bath,” and “My Children in the Woods.”

And how many ways are there to design sports stadiums, swimming pools, or Olympic villages? A single project could yield multiple entries. For example, in 1928, the University of Pennsylvania provided fourteen entries for athletic facilities, including interior and exterior views of different parts of the complex.

Architectural designs that had already been built could compete. In 1928, the Olympic Stadium where games were held that year won the gold medal. Maybe it’s just me, but it seems like the judges may have been biased.

Judging for these art events was a bit haphazard. Host cities would establish a jury to judge the submissions. All three medals (gold, silver, and bronze) were sometimes awarded. Other times, just one, and it might not even be gold. There might be a silver but no gold medal if none of the art was considered worthy of the higher award.

In the early days, music was judged in written form rather than performed. How did one show that a musical composition was sports-related anyway? Many entries included some form of the word Olympic in the name. There were Olympic-related marches, hymns, and chants. This was the category where the fewest medals were awarded because of the difficulty of judging.

Unlike other forms of art, literature is language-based. Works could be submitted in the original language, but a translation or summary in English or French was also needed. How can a story or poem be judged based on a translation or summary? There was a limit of 20,000 words, so the longest pieces were novella length.

In 1912, a German piece titled “Ode to Sport” won a gold medal. It was the only literature award that year. In 1920, medals were given for “Olympic Songs,” “Olympic Games of Antwerp,” and “The Praise of the Gods.”

The art competitions ended after the 1948 games. Olympics are supposed to be amateur competitions, but artists used them as a form of advertisement to sell their wares. Pieces would be sold after the competition.

The official Olympic medal count no longer includes the medals for these competitions. Many artists were older than the athletes, skewing the average age. And some countries won more art awards.

Art exhibitions are still part of the official Olympic experience. However, they are no longer competitive events.

Had the art events continued, I could have entered a novel. I would just have to write one with a sports theme.

***

 

”Mending Sarah’s Heart” in the Thimbles and Threads Collection

Four historical romances celebrating the arts of sewing and quilting.

Mending Sarah’s Heart by Suzanne Norquist

Rockledge, Colorado, 1884

Sarah seeks a quiet life as a seamstress. She doesn’t need anyone, especially her dead husband’s partner. If only the Emporium of Fashion would stop stealing her customers, and the local hoodlums would leave her sons alone. When she rejects her husband’s share of the mine, his partner Jack seeks to serve her through other means. But will his efforts only push her further away?

 

Suzanne Norquist is the author of two novellas, “A Song for Rose” in A Bouquet of Brides Collection and “Mending Sarah’s Heart” in the Thimbles and Threads Collection. Everything fascinates her. She has worked as a chemist, professor, financial analyst, and even earned a doctorate in economics. Research feeds her curiosity, and she shares the adventure with her readers. She lives in New Mexico with her mining engineer husband and has two grown children. When not writing, she explores the mountains, hikes, and attends kickboxing class.