Date That Artifact

Historic material culture, or the things people used daily to survive, is fascinating to me.  For the last 25 years, I have made a study of the different styles of clothing throughout history as well as the different fibers and methods used for processing that fiber into fabric.  While I am by no means an expert, I do know quite a bit, and, as such, have been asked to help identify or date textiles for various local collections including those at the HGSIC. 

Identifying and dating these items can be tricky.  Sometimes a dress that comes with a story about its being worn by great-great-great grandma Tilly to a ball in 1868 was actually a lovely day dress from 1902.  That dusty old spinning wheel in Uncle Bob’s barn is actually a relic from the 1970s when he wanted to “get back to the land” and learn to spin wool.  These items usually do not come with any kind of maker’s mark or garment tag to assist in the dating, and I have to rely on what the item itself has to tell me.  Does it have a zipper?  Then it’s no older than the 1920s.  Polyester, nylon, and rayon are dead giveaways for a piece being mid-20th century.  Dating textiles in particular often comes down to looking at the teeny tiny stitches and deciphering hand stitching from machine stitching.  At this point, I’m fairly confident in my skills, yet sometimes I am surprised by a textile I am tasked to help identify.

Recently I was asked to take a look at a new acquisition that had come into the Historical Society.  This was a lovely woven coverlet bought and used by a local family “some time ago.”  Jonathan questioned the date that came along with the coverlet as it did not really look like an item that would have been made by the looms available at the time.  The coverlet itself had the name of a business and the date:  “Emanuel Ettinger, Aaronsburg, Centre Co Penn-A, 1840.”  When I was called in, Jonathan stated that, based on the color and off-centered pattern, he thought maybe it was an item made later with the possibility that the date was simply the year the business was founded.  At first glance, I agreed.  Why does the pattern cut off at this point?  This seems to be an affectation made by an industrial machine from the late 1800s rather than an intentional design.  The different colors used in the specific order on the coverlet appeared to be the choice of a company pushing out hundreds of coverlets rather than a small business creating dozens.  So at first I agreed with Jonathan’s initial assessment, that this coverlet was a very nice, yet misdated, piece of history.

At this point, I was able to use my deductive skills.  In order to prove, or disprove, the modern reproduction theory I first had to look at the fiber.  It felt like wool, smelled like it, too (yes, fibers have a smell!), but a burn test on a small piece confirmed that it was.  Next, when the coverlet was opened there was a hand-stitched seam in the middle.  This type of finishing work was necessary in a time before the widespread use of sewing machines which occurred by the 1860s.  Finally, the binding around the unfinished edges was also completed by hand, and while this could have been done at a later date if the coverlet was starting to fray, it was more likely finished this way when it was first constructed.  I could tell this hand finishing was done at the initial manufacture due to the use of the same thread as that used for the warp threads in the coverlet.  A final search of the business online found that Emanuel Ettinger did, in fact, produce woven wool coverlets out of Centre County beginning in 1840.

The conclusion then?  That this coverlet is likely a very well-preserved piece that originated from the Emanuel Ettinger weaving company in the 1840s.  I am happy that it turned out to be a legitimate coverlet from the time period as stated on the piece itself, however it is usually best to double check the facts using all available sources.  That spinning wheel looks old, but it has modern nails.  That dress is a good reproduction of an 1850s garment, but it has modern hooks.  Conversely, that coverlet looks like a modern acknowledgement of a local business, but is actually what it says it is.  It is side quests like this that bring me joy, and just one more reason I love to be involved with the HGSIC.