Building 20 – MIT – from blimp – Aug. 1945. Courtesy MIT Museum.
MIT’s Building 20 was built at 18 Vassar Street in 1943 as part of the war effort to improve existing radar capabilities. In 1940, the National Defense Research Committee (NDRC) appointed the president of MIT, Karl T. Compton, to head up special research projects to advance the development of what turned out to be “micro-wave” radar. Given the size of the project, Compton quickly realized MIT needed a new building to accommodate the task at hand—hence: Building 20. The administration and business affairs of the work done there were handled by MIT, but its funding and research agenda were determined by the NDRC.
Building 20 was erected in only six months. Since war-time steel production was limited to use for armaments, the building was constructed of wood and built like a three-story barracks. It had five wings: the “B” wing was parallel to Vassar Street, while the A, C, D and E wings extended perpendicularly towards the central MIT campus. The roof was flat, the shingles were asbestos (a product not yet firmly considered toxic), and the windows were stacked hoppers. Because it was considered a temporary building, Building 20 was also built without the need to adhere to some of the usual building constraints of the time, like prevailing fire codes. After the war, the MIT Acoustics Lab was attached to the C wing. At the time of its demolition in 1998, Building 20 and its additions had a combined floor area of approximately 222,000 square feet.
The main event when the building was completed was housing the “Radiation Laboratory” or “Rad Lab,” a somewhat vague name intentionally chosen to conceal its true operations: developing microwave radar to improve the accuracy of bombing. Once this new technology was ready for action, the urgency of this need caused the Rad Lab to start manually building “blind bombing sets” in Building 20 until industrial manufactures could gear up to produce them in large quantities.
Radio Frequency (Group 53), MIT Radiation Laboratory. Image courtesy Jewish Women’s Archive via Wikimedia Commons.
Other inventions included “… airborne bombing radars, shipboard search radars, harbor and coastal defense radars, gun-laying radars, ground-controlled approach radars for aircraft blind landing, interrogate-friend-or-foe beacon systems, and the long-range navigation (LORAN) system. Some of the most critical contributions of the Radiation Laboratory were the microwave early-warning (MEW) radars, which effectively nullified the V-1 threat to London, and air-to-surface vessel (ASV) radars, which turned the tide on the U-boat threat.” (MIT Radiation Laboratory)
According to TheCambridge Chronicle (August 16, 1945) the real purpose of Building 20 was made public just a half hour after Truman announced the surrender of Japan:
In 1998, the year the building was to be demolished, The New York Times ran an article called “Last Rites for a ‘Plywood Palace’ That Was a Rock of Science,” which stated that the building was home “for almost 4,000 researchers in 20 disciplines. At one time, more than 20 percent of the physicists in the United States (including nine Nobel Prize winners) had worked in that building.”
What made Building 20 such a hotbed of creative innovation?
It all had to do with what biologist Stuart Kauffman [not at MIT] called “the adjacent possible.” His description of the term perfectly describes Building 20: “…its physical and social environment continually expanded the realm of what was thinkable and doable. Its open, makeshift design and its mix of disciplines made it easier for researchers to stumble upon the next possible thing that hadn’t yet been imagined. The proximity of minds from different domains allowed ideas to leap boundaries and merge into novel possibilities, showing that innovation is less a flash of genius and more a product of evolving connections in the right conditions.”
Those who worked in Building 20 agreed:
“It turned out to be absolutely perfect for research…you can knock down a wall, you can punch out a ceiling, and you could get space. In academics, space is everything.” (Morris Halle, Professor of Linguistics in “A Building with Soul” by Alex Beam, The Boston Globe, June 29, 1988).
Interior image of Building 20. Courtesy MIT Museum.
“Life in Building 20 was homey with a family-like atmosphere. Any excuse would serve for having a party. People ignored the shabbiness and dirt because the atmosphere encouraged creativity and the exchange of ideas.” (RLE Undercurrents, Vol. 9, no. 2, Fall 1997)
“People got together and shared ideas without worrying who you were.”
“It was so informal nobody considered rank or previous training.”
“…it was so easy to build experiments there – pull wires, bolt things to walls, come and go at any hour.”
Among those working in the building during the war years were:
Jerome Wiesner: worked on microwave radar, later at Los Alamos National Laboratory, later chairman of President Kennedy’s Science Advisory Committee (PSAC), and later President of MIT
Amar Bose: his invention of improved loudspeakers led to the founding of the Bose company
Leo Beranek: an acoustical engineer, who went on to found Bolt, Beranek & Newman
After WWII some programs closed down, opening up space for other projects. While scientific research continued, over time a myriad of “non science” programs like linguistics, history, arts, music, and student affairs also occupied space in the building, further adding to its quirky allure. The list below is far from inclusive but serves to convey the range of programs that shared the space.
Department of Linguistics and Philosophy. In 1976, Morris Halle and Noam Chomsky, pioneers in linguistics research, together founded the MIT Linguistics program
Jerome Lettvin, cognitive scientist and Professor of Electrical and Bioengineering and Communications Physiology
MIT Dean of Humanities Office
History of Science and Technology Program, including Elting Morrison, historian of technology, and founder of the Science, Technology, and Society program
Anthropology section of the Humanities Department
Music Department
MIT Electronic Research Society (MITRE)
Research Lab of Electronics Photography: Harold “Doc” Edgerton who developed stroboscopic, stop-action photography, including the famous milk drop “Considered one of the most important photographs of all time.”
Center for Materials Research in Anthropology & Ethnology
Center for Environmental Health Sciences
The Denouement of Building 20
Building 20 finally reached the end of the road in 1998. Having outlived its original planned lifespan by decades, by any standard Building 20 was a ramshackle place. The Cambridge Historical Commission initially advocated for giving the building protected status. However, after hearings on the subject, the Commission, noting the comprehensive history of the building maintained by MIT and the fact that it no longer could support “modern science and engineering,” gave MIT permission to raze the building.
The frame for the photo above was made with wood of floorboards from Building 20. The name carved into the bottom of the frame, Parker & Stearns, was a lumber company in Johnson, VT and is presumed to have provided lumber for the building’s construction.
The MIT Building 20 Time Capsule is located the Stata Center, part of an exhibit dedicated to Building 20 and the Rad Lab. The capsule is to be opened in 2053, 55 years after Building 20 was demolished. Perched on top of the box holding the time capsule is another relic from the war research: a SCR-615B Radar Antenna.
Designers and builders of the Building 20 Time Capsule (left to right): Tanisha Lloyd, Sonia Tulyani, and their UROP supervisor, Professor J. Francis Reinties, 1999. Courtesy MIT Museum.
“I don’t know what the business men are getting out of radio, but it is certainly a big force let loose in the world…I pass on where this game is leading us. I don’t believe that anybody knows where radio is headed to – it’s all an unknown quantity yet, and who will ultimately profit most, time will tell. I recon that the public will – – anyway it keeps us merchants pushe’d along, and we have to keep up with it.” (TheCambridge Tribune October 11, 1924).
In addition to Valentine’s Day, February 14 is also National Radio Day. And, since Harry Katz was a radio salesman extraordinaire in the early days of Cambridge radio and beyond, we thought we’d use this chance to say a few words about him.
But first – here are some Cambridge and Mass-related fun radio facts:
Marconi Beach on Cape Cod is named after Gugliemo Marconi, the Italian inventor of wireless radio. In 1903, Marconi famously transmitted the first transatlantic wireless communication between the U. S. and England from the cliffs overlooking this beach, which is now part of the National Park Service.
At the outset of WWI, Harvard provided the Navy free use of its Cruft High Tension Electrical Laboratory on Oxford Street for the Navy’s new School for Radio Electricians. “By early 1918, more than 5,000 Naval recruits had enrolled in the program and 400 new radio operators were graduating and entering military service each week.” (“Cruft Laboratory goes to war”)
Class operating in the radio room, April 1918. Photographer: Edwin Levick. U.S. Naval Radio School, Harvard University. Source: The U.S. National Archives.
The proliferation of commercial radio stations in the early 1920s led to the Radio Act of 1927 and the Federal Radio Commission, which established the first set of broadcasting regulations. Stations in the Boston area at that time included WNAC, WBZ (broadcasting from the Hotel Brunswick), WDBR (broadcasting from the Tremont Temple Baptist Church), WGBH (originally broadcasting from Fall River), WBZ, WEEI (licensed to the Edison Electric Illuminating Co. of Boston) and WRSC (broadcasting from the Hotel Bellevue).
In 1922, the MIT Radio Society “…announced that it will accept messages from any students at Technology for transmission free of charge to any part of the United States or the Hawaiian Islands.” (The Cambridge Tribune October 14, 1922)
Cambridge venues of all sorts were advertising radio concerts. Some included dancing. Even the Manhattan Market grocery store on Mass Ave hosted a series of radio concerts in their store. The store manager proclaimed: “This will enable many to have a first glowing experience with this new electrical wave marvel.” (for more about the Manhattan Market, see our blog post “Before Their Were Supermarkets”)
An item in TheCambridge Tribune (April 15, 1922) declared “$5,000,000 is spent weekly on radio. Already 75 broadcasting stations serve more than 600,000 radio operators through the country. Are our local electricians alive to possibilities?” Radio supply and service shops proliferated. Among them were:
The Cambridge Tribune April 29, 1922
The Cambridge Tribune February 25, 1922
The Cambridge Chronicle June 17, 1922
And then there was Harry Katz…
The Cambridge Sentinel July 6, 1929
The Cambridge Sentinel October 11, 1924: “Scene before the Harry Katz Radio Store in Central Square at an early morning hour when something colorful was happening in the Democratic Convention at Madison Square Garden in New York. A Radio Audience.”
The Chronicle reported that “Harry Katz has been giving ‘day and night’ service to the radio ‘fans’ during the national Democratic convention. He had a crowd about his store at all times when the convention was on, even when the final ballot was announced about 2.30 a. m. Wednesday morning.” (July 12, 1924)
In October, Katz tuned the radio and amplified the World Series games to the public. As TheCambridge Tribune reported under a headline “RADIO CROWDS JAM SIDEWALKS”: “it…kept the crowds spell-bound all through the week in front of the firm’s Central square store.” This was followed by his broadcast of the November 1924 election results:
The Cambridge Chronicle November 8, 1924
Of course, Harry’s speakers also relayed baseball games:
The Cambridge Tribune October 24, 1925
Harry Katz was born in Lborow, Austria in 1890. His family emigrated to the Boston in 1903 on the inaugural voyage of the White Star Line Ship Cretic. Harry was a savvy entrepreneur: in 1909, he was given a license for selling used clothes, and had started a bicycle repair business at 85 River Street:
The Cambridge Chronicle November 9, 1909
In 1912 he moved his bicycle business to 73 River St, where also serviced automobile tires “retiring” baby carriages to his services.
One of several footline advertisements that appeared in the 1916 Cambridge Directory
Finally, in 1917, he moved his radio and auto accessory business to 712 Mass Ave in Central Square, next to the Board of Trade building. This includes merchandise from his bike store in North Cambridge.
“Harry Katz of Central square likes to be first in everything. Julius Caesar was just the same way. Not content with being one of the first bicycle dealers on a large scale in Cambridge, and the very first auto accessory dealer in the city, added to being the pioneer radio man of the town, now he has opened the first super-service auto station on Brookline street…” (The Cambridge Sentinel July 26, 1929)
125 Brookline St, ca. 1929
Around 1932, Katz moved his entire operation from the 712 Mass Ave location to his 125 Brookline St service station. (For more about this location see our Instagram post on the former Katz Garage)
45 years before his death in 1972, The Cambridge Sentinel ran a remarkable encomium about Katz’ character:
“[Katz] is quiet, social, and sensible. His head for business has not hardened his heart. Those black eyes see more than a tactful tongue will talk about. He is Harry to a host of friends. People of the vinegar type are not saluted by their first names. It is a tribute to general worth, the mutual expression of familiarity with respect. It is the irresistible appeal of friendliness, the touch of nature, that makes the world kin, that explains the likableness of Harry Katz. He does not strain to please. He is more blunt than diplomatic in expressing what he thinks… Common sense is Harry Katz’s distinguishing train. It explains his quiet, thoughtful manner, his courtesy and amiability…For more years than he looks, Harry Katz has been and is a greatly respected personality in the business of Central square. In his modest way he has led organized trade in that busy section. This constitutes leadership, even if so modest a man would protest the claim. Most would be apt to ignore the denial. The facts to not sustain the objection.” (November 4, 1933)
Harry Katz died on August 2, 1972 at Brookline Hospital. He was 82 years old. The headline of his obituary sated that he “was in real estate here for many years.” Katz and his wife Annie Perlstein, who predeceased him, lived at 61 Austin Street in Cambridge. He left his daughter Gertrude [Katz] Kagan; and a sister, Sarah Kaufman. (The Cambridge Chronicle August 10, 1972)
* * *
The advent of radio had an enormous impact on society, connecting the social fabric as never before. For the first time, people were united by hearing the news, election results, a baseball game, the local high school glee club, or a concert all simultaneously. Geography no longer mattered. As always, shared experiences of this kind informs how society in all its aspects evolves– reinforcing community engagement, shaping public opinion and politics, and bringing an enhanced knowledge of the wider world. The advent of television did the same thing, just as today the countless sources of information available on the internet continue to shape our society.
Today’s post was written by Kathleen Fox
SOURCES
Cambridge Historical Commission
Cambridge Public Library Historic Cambridge Newspaper Collection
Cambridge book alert! Check out the recently published memoir My Ride Through Life: A Cambridge Kid Finds Identity in Dirt Lots, City Schools, and Reggae Beats by Cambridge kid and Historical Commission volunteer Anthony Beckwith.
My Ride Through Life traces the author’s family roots and follows the winding path of his early life, transporting the reader back to the world of Cambridge, Massachusetts, in the 1960s and ‘70s, and navigating the neighborhoods of Boston in the 1980s and ‘90s. Along the way, he raises important and universal questions: How do our families and communities influence our views on race and rights, class and culture? In what ways do our curiosities and insecurities affect the direction we take in life? What aspects of our identities are essential to who we are?
In this fun, honest, and thought-provoking memoir, Anthony Beckwith uses lively anecdotes and a conversational style to share his story and invite readers to reflect on the sources of their own identities. Insightful, warm, and full of unexpected turns, My Ride Through Life will resonate with readers of all ages and backgrounds.
This book is available at our local outlets Harvard Bookstore, The Book Rack in Arlington, and Porter Square Books. Print and audio editions can be found at online retailers. Click here for more information: https://sites.google.com/view/myridethroughlife/home.
Following a multi-year effort, The Cambridge Historical Commission has made its extensive architectural survey records available to the public digitally through the Cambridge Digital Architectural Survey and History (CDASH) project!
In its original paper form the Cambridge Historical Commission’s Architectural Survey fills 10 filing cabinets of physical materials detailing the history of the city’s built environment. The collection documents nearly every building in the city, demolished or extant, through newspaper clippings, articles, photographs, atlas details, ephemera, correspondence, and more. Now available online, users can browse over 131,000 pages of information covering nearly 15,000 distinct places in the city. Explore this resource at cdash.cambridgema.gov.
Examples of resources that can be found in CDASH
The user interface and the administrative back end for CDASH have been created with the popular open-source repository and discovery platform Omeka-S. Customizations to Omeka-S showcase the versatility of geographic referencing as a means of linking data from diverse sources. In its current form, CDASH is best accessed with a computer. In the coming year, we hope to bring CDASH to small screens and in the field as a GPS-enabled mobile app.
John Albert Moore Mustache-holder Patent No. 278,999. 1883.
Has it ever occurred to you that nearly every mechanical object, tool or gadget we use in daily life was, at some point, a new invention?
“Indeed, it is difficult to recall a single feature of our national progress along materiallines that has not been vitalized by the touch of the inventor’s genius.”
– Henry E. Baker
Henry E. Baker, Jr. (1857–1928). Baker was the third African American admitted to the U.S. Naval Academy. After experiencing racial discrimination, Baker left the Academy and went on to get a Law Degree from Howard University in 1881. While at Howard, he began a job as a copyist at the U.S. Patent Office and later became an assistant patent examiner. He was interested in the history of African American inventors, and published books on the subject. Image: Portrait of Henry Edwin Baker, ca. 1902.
In 1788 the newly created Constitution set the stage for patents by including this clause about intellectual property rights: “[The Congress shall have Power…] to promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, be securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries.” Two years later, the Patent Act of 1790 was passed, and the first patent issued on July 31, 1790 to inventor Samuel Hopkins (1743-1818) of Philadelphia. The patent was for his invention for improving the production of pot ash and pearl ash. The patent was authorized by George Washington, and a panel consisting of The Secretary of State, Secretary of War and Attorney General. However, the U. S. Patent Office was not officially established until 1802. The practice of numbering patents did not begin until 1836. As of that date, approximately 9,957 patents had already been issued. Today, approximately 13.5 million patents have been granted in the U.S.
The Cambridge Chronicle December 1, 1855. Headline announcing establishment of new barrel and cask manufactory of I. Lincoln Bangs.
Following is a somewhat arbitrary mélange of some lesser-known nineteenth-century Cambridge patent holders, gleaned mostly from announcements in the Cambridge newspapers since 1848 (the first year of available digitized papers). Unless otherwise noted, the images below were obtained from Google Patents. Apart from one or two well-known inventors, most of these individuals are virtually unknown.
Looking at these patents it is interesting to see how they illustrate the qualities of their inventor’s minds. Some were everyday laborers, some more educated experts. Their perceived rank in society did not inhibit their creativity and often their invention had nothing to do with their day job. The inventor of the “Moustache holder,” pictured above and detailed below, was a piano action maker; the inventor of “Elastic Stairs” a bookbinder; and the inventor of a “Reversible” Broiler a watchmaker. These inventors seemed to have been keen observers with creative minds, an aptitude for figuring out how things work, and an impulse to make things better. They were problem solvers.
Three of these men were at one point employed as “piano action” makers. Two worked for the Riverside Press. Two were apothecaries, two interested in spring beds, and two were interested in coffee. Two served in the Civil War. One became Mayor of Cambridge. Even on a small scale these examples convey something of the spirit of the American power of invention.
(Note: All quotations in italics are from the U. S. Government Patent Records, as are the electrotyped illustrations, which are included mostly because they are so exquisitely drawn.)
John Albert Moore (1849–1916) Moustache-Holder. Patent No. 278,999. 1883.
In 1883 John Albert Moore was a “piano action maker,” living at 4 Elm St when he came up with an idea to get one’s mustache out of the way while eating.
Detail: John Albert Moore Mustache holder Patent No. 278,999. 1883.
His description of this delightful gizmo stated that it was “formed of a comb, to one side of which a spring frame, having curved arms, is attached, which is raised, and then the comb is passed through the mustache and the spring-frame released, so that the mustache will be held between the comb and the spring-frame, whereby the moustache will be held raised, so that it cannot come in contact with the food being passed into the mouth.”
Joseph F. Townsend (1835 –1893)Suspender-buckle Patent. No. 324,897. 1885.
The 1880 Census lists Joseph F. Townsend as a piano forte maker – an occupation he had held since the age of 22. the year of his patent, he lived on Central Place.
“Be it known that I, Joseph Franklin Townsend, of Cambridgeport, …, have invented a new and useful Improvement in Suspender Buckles; and I do hereby declare the same to be described in the following specification and represented in the-accompanying drawings of my improved buckle as applied to a suspender band or strap.”
“Stooping over to pick up a fair lady’s handkerchief loses its joy when it sacrifices a suspender button.” (The Cambridge Chronicle May 9, 1885)
Henry Allen Miner (1857-1934) Improvement in Clasps. Patent No. 214,577. 1879.
The 1879 Directory lists Henry Miner’s, occupation as clerk at 161 Cambridge St. By 1882, the Directory listed him as an apothecary at the same address, living at 80 Thorndike St.
“My present invention relates to that class of clasps employed in holding up socks, drawers,… and for shortening and supporting sleeves, dresses and other garments…When the clasp is to be used for supporting or holding up a sock, Fig. 2, one pair of jaws is caught over the top or edge of the sock and the other pair over a fold of the leg of the drawers, which, as they pass down inside the sock, prevent the plate A from coming into contact with and chafing the limb of the wearer.”
Miner was a savvy businessman. In 1883 he was one of only 175 subscribers to the new telephone system. His phone number was 7143. It is unknown how successful his clasps for holding up drawers were. But he seemed to have a knack for advertising:
The Cambridge Chronicle June 24, 1882
Charles Robinson (1810-1888) Elastic Loop for Suspending Bedstead-Slats. Patent No. 17,695. 1857.
The Directory of 1855 lists Charles Robinson as a bookbinder and in 1857 as a “spring bed manufacturer” living on River St near Mt. Auburn. By 1880, the Census lists Robinson as “inventor of patents” living at 47 Hamilton St.
The Cambridge Chronicle June 27, 1858
Next in the elastic department comes Robinson’s patent for Elastic Stairs Patent No. 17,234. 1857:
“…the nature of my invention consists in supporting the steps of stairs by springs situated beneath them, substantially as herein described, for the purpose of rending the ascent and descent thereon light, soft and easy…The advantages of elastic stairs, as above described, are obvious. Not only is the tread soft and nearly noiseless, but persons are enabled to ascent and descend the stairs with such ease, as to render the improvement of great value to invalids….”
The Cambridge Chronicle June 20, 1857
Robinson’s obituary refers to him as “Capt.,” an honorific he earned as a young man as commander of the Exeter (NH) Artillery Co. where he was living at the time. His obituary noted that “…the deceased had a large share of inventive genius and produced many ingenious devices of utility and usefulness…Of late years he was employed at his trade as a practical workman, at the Riverside Bindery.” (Cambridge Tribune January 28, 1888)
“That class of flour-sitters now in use, where the flour is rubbed over a sieve by means of a revolving shaft… are objectionable on account of the central rubbing-shaft not being made easily removable, thereby rendering it difficult to clean it or the sieve beneath. My invention has for its object to overcome this difficulty, and consists in making the rubbing-shaft removable and providing it at one end with a disk or head to prevent the escape of the flour, by which arrangement the operation of cleaning the sifter is greatly facilitated.”
Foye was one of those inventors creating items outside his day job. In addition to inventing improvements in flour sifters, Foye was a cabinet maker, and co-owner of “Foye and Conant,” manufacturers of sashes and blinds as well:
The Cambridge Chronicle January 13, 1866
Mayor Frank Augustus Allen(1835 ME-1916 MA) Improvement in Coffee Steamers. Patent 261,575. 1882.
Allen was a successful businessman and politician. In 1874 he was elected to the Common Council (Cambridge’s governing body) from Ward 4, running on a platform of opposition to fraud. In 1876 he was elected President of the Council. He ran for and served as Mayor in 1877 and 1878. In 1882 Allen was living at 263 Harvard St and working at The Oriental Co., importers of tea and coffee in Boston, so it is not surprising he came up with this invention:
Portrait of Frank A. Allen as published in The Cambridge Chronicle, 2 December 1876
“The objects of my invention are to provide an apparatus or utensils for steeping ground coffee, in the process of extracting the beverage, by percolation of very hot water without boiling…so as to obtain all of the fine aroma and flavor without extracting the vegetable flavor, which is objectionable, or other objectionable substances, or dispelling the essential oil and other delicious properties which are carried off by the escape of steam. My invention is more particularly designed for making coffee in large quantities, as required in hotels, saloons, and similar places, but is equally adapted to common household use…”
Elam Rakestraw (1828-1906?) Machine for cleaning and grading coffee. Patent No. 269,461. 1882
A few months after Frank Allen’s invention for domestic coffee making, Rakestraw received a patent for commercial use for cleaning and grading coffee. The 1881 Directory listed him as an engineer working at 1 Hamilton St, Boston, the location of Dwinell, Hayward Co. coffee and spice mill operations. He was boarding at 37 Winsor St, Cambridge.
“Be it known that I, Elam Rakestraw, of Cambridgeport,…have invented a new and Improved Coffee-Grader, of which the following is a full, clear, and exact description. The object of my invention is to facilitate separating the flat coffee beans or berries from the round beans or berries.”
His mechanism is gorgeously complicated. Flat vs. round berries? Who knew?
Antique Dwinell, Hayward & Co. advertising cream of tartar spice box, ca. 1884-99. Image via eBay
In 1880 Burt Eldon was a watchmaker in business at 475 Main St., living on School Street. He also advertised himself as an optician:
Advertisement for B.E. Shattuck in the 1883 Cambridge Directory
Now what would cause a jeweler and optician to invent a better meat broiler??
“Be it known that I, Burt E. Shattuck…. have invented certain new and useful Improvements in Reversible Broilers…the object of my invention is to provide means whereby the relative position of the handles to the clamp-frames for holding the food to be broiled may be reversed, so as to permit all portions of the same to be cooked alike or without over-cooking any part thereof.”
Elias Howe, Jr. (1819-1867) Improvement in Sewing-Machines Patent No. 4,730. 1846.
Elias Howe. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York; gift of I. N. Phelps Stokes, Edward S. Hawes, Alice Mary Hawes, and Marion Augusta Hawes, 1937 (accession no. 37.14.26); http://www.metmuseum.org
US stamp honoring Elias Howe, 1940. Image via Wikimedia Commons
Perhaps the most well-known of Cambridge’s 19th century inventors is Elias Howe, Jr. The 1848 Directory listed him as machinist, living on Washington St. Having a hard time launching his new improvement for sewing machines in the U. S., he decamped to England to try his luck. There he had only a brief success. Upon returning to the U.S., he found that Isaac Singer had been manufacturing a replica of his sewing machine. It took five years for Howe to win a court case against Singer, after which he received a royalty on every sewing machine that infringed on his patent, making him a wealthy man.
Sewing Machine Patent Model. Patent No. 4,750, issued September 10, 1846. Elias Howe Jr. of Cambridge, Massachusetts. Image courtesy Smithsonian Museum of American History.
Howe went on to establish the Howe Machine Co. in Bridgeport, CT. In 1862 Howe volunteered with Company D in the Connecticut Volunteer Infantry. Because he had poor health, he did not serve active duty but did contribute financially to buy equipment for the company – later known as “Howe’s Rifles.” He became the Regimental Postmaster, carrying war news to and from Baltimore. He won a gold medal at the Paris Exhibition in 1867, and in 1873 the French Legion d’honneur.
Gordon McKay (1821-1903)Tension Mechanism for Sewing Machine Patent No. 229,049. 1880.
McKay, who was in the shoe business, devised an improvement for sewing soles onto shoe uppers. In 1879 he was living on Mt. Auburn St, in the old “Governor Winthrop Mansion” (approximately where the Harvard dorm by the same name is located today).
“This invention relates to tension devices for sewing machines, and is especially adapted for use on the McKay sole-sewing machine, and to operate in connection with the horn and tension device thereon, as shown and described in U. S. Patent No. 224,063 to J. L. Wilkinson.”
His leather sewing machine, called the “McKay” machine, was for lease only – not for sale. During the Civil War he cranked out 25,000 pairs of shoes for soldiers. The Gordon McKay Lab at Harvard (9 Oxford St) is named after McKay.
Tyler Howe (1800-1880) Elliptic Spring Bed. Patent No. 100,408. 1855. Improved and reissued in 1882.
Tyler Howe was Elias Howe’s uncle. It was after a miserable voyage from California on a hard straw mattress (and a failed attempt at gold mining) that Howe decided to invent a better bed.
Portrait of Tyler Howe as published in New New England Manufacturers and Manufactories: Three Hundred and Fifty of the Leading Manufacturers of New England. Vol. 1. Boston: Van Slyck Comany, page 364.
“The invention has reference to that class of bed-foundations in which each of the slats is supported upon springs arranged near its two ends; and it consists in so forming and applying the springs to their supporting-bars and the slats as not only to form a strong and durable connection, but produce an easy, elastic, and yielding foundation for a mattress…”
It was a huge success. Howe opened a salesroom in New York City and became a wealthy man.
Advertisement for Howe’s bed in the 1859 Cambridge city directory
A lot of people were improving on spring beds in 1858. Google Patents lists eight patents for improvements made that year around the country. One of those was invented by Charles Robinson (above). Another was invented by Rufus Leavitt.
Daniel Chapman Stillson(1826-1899) Improvement in wrench Patent No. 95,744. 1869.
Daniel C. Stillson was a mechanic at the Walworth Company in Cambridge. The company manufactured steam and gas fittings. (It was in the Walworth Manufacturing Co. building that, in 1876, Thomas Watson receive Alexander Bell’s first telephone call.) Stillson’s Pipe Wrench is still ln world-wide use today. There have been slight modifications to its original design, but it remains virtually unchanged.
“The object of my invention is to provide a cheap, simple, strong, and durable wrench of this character, one which will operate with equal effect upon a cylindrical or a rectangular, or polygonal shaped body…”
Henry W. Matthes (1819-1897)Compressed Air Engines Patent No. 214,050. 1879.
In 1861 Matthes enlisted as a private in the Union Army in Concord, Mass. He served 4 months with the Sharp Shooter regiment before being mustered out in March of 1862 due to disability. The 1878 Directory lists his occupation watchmaker at 42 Pine St. The Census of 1880 lists him still living on Pine Street, occupation “works brass.”
“Be it known that I… have invented certain new and useful Improvements in Combined Air Compressor and Reservoir…My invention consists in a combination of an air-pump, an air-condenser, and two or more tanks or reservoirs, and such suitable connections that air may be conveniently compressed to that degree and in such quantities as may be desired for driving light machinery.”
Alvan Clark (1804-1887)Improvement in Telescopes. Patent No. 8,509. 1851. (Improvement in eyepieces)
Clark was a polymath. Born in Ashfield, MA, he began as an engraver and portrait painter. He arrived in Boston in 1836 and was painting portraits in his studio there while living in Cambridge. The 1852 Directory listed him as an “artist, 15 Tremont Row, h. Prospect n. Austin.” During the Civil War he manufactured field-glasses for the Union Army.
Alvan Clark (1804-1887). Harvard University Portrait Collection, Gift of Mrs. Alvan Clark to the Harvard College Observatory, 1899
Clark’s interest in telescopes was piqued by one of his son’s student assignments with a telescope.
“In my improved eye-piece I have not only sought to … make a simple and substantial eye-piece and one wherein ready access may be easily had to the glasses or lenses in order either to cleanse or repair them, as the case may require”
Portrait of Alvan Clark by Metcalf & Welldon, 1887. Smithsonian Institution Archives.
Since 1846 Clark’s firm, Alvan Clark & Sons had been renowned world-wide for their refracting telescopes. Appleton’s Cyclopedia of American Biography lists his occupation as “optician.”
Israel P. Nelson (1811- ?) Respirator. Patent No. 16,863. 1857.
In the year of his patent Nelson was a machinist living at 60 Market St. In 1861 Nelson enlisted in the 38th Infantry of Massachusetts. He served in Louisiana where he was mustered out 1863 due to disability.
I, Israel P. Nelson, of Cambridge, …, have invented a new and Improved Fireman’s Mask and Respirator, …The attempts which have been made to protect firemen from the injurious effects of smoke and heated air upon the lungs, by causing the air which they breathe to pass through moist Sponge for the purpose of filtering and cooling it, have been but partially successful. My present improvement has for its object the accomplishment of the same end and is based upon the fact that in apartments filled with Smoke to an extent that would render it impossible to breathe at the height of a man’s head above the floor, there is nearly in every instance a draft of cool pure air immediately upon the floor, and a few inches above it. To take advantage of this circumstance, I have adapted a tight-fitting mask to the face of the person, from which depend the air tubes through which he breathes, the extremities of the tubes reaching to within an inch or two of the floor…”
John McTammany, Jr. (1845-1915) Mechanical musical instrument. Patent No. 242,786. 1881.
Born in Scotland, McTammany began his life in the U. S. in Ohio. There, in 1864 he enlisted in the 115th Ohio Volunteer Infantry. He was wounded in Nashville, resulting in a very long recovery. After the Civil War he returned to Ohio where he took up music and taught organ. This led to his invention of a device including perforated paper that would enable an organ to play automatically. (It became known as a “player piano,” but that was not a term used by him.) McTammany later moved to Boston and began making an automatic organ called an “organette” in Cambridgeport.
“The first to invent, exhibit, manufacture and offer to the world an instrument operated with perforated paper. Investor of the Automatic Organ and the Organette, and other valuable inventions in connection with the music and musical instruments. This is no toy or plaything, but a good- sized organ for ten dollars, that possesses twelve points of excellence over any other organette in the market, and will plan an unlimited number of compositions. Any person can play it. For further particulars call at the Factory, 511 Main St., Cambridgeport, or Louis P. Goullaud, 165 Tremont St., Boston” (The Cambridge Chronicle August 15, 1879)
The Cambridge Chronicle August 16, 1879
Portrait of John McTammany. Image via New England Historical Society
As was the case with inventor Elias Howe of sewing machine fame, others capitalized on his invention. McTammany filed a patent, which, in 1881, stated that he was the “original and prior” inventor of the player piano, but this did not discourage others – including Mason and Hamlin of Cambridge – from continuing to market his invention. There ensued a series of lawsuits. Ultimately, he turned to other inventions, which included perforated paper voting machines.
Edward Kendall (1821-1915) Apparatus for Heating Air Condensing Steam. Patent No. 272,866. 1883.
The Cambridge Chronicle February 11, 1893
We are all familiar with the name. Edward Kendall began in the steam boiler manufacturing business in 1860, in partnership with George B. Roberts. He bought out Roberts in 1887 and included his sons – George F. and James H. -in the business.
“My invention relates to an apparatus which may be termed an “air surface-condenser” or an “air-heater,” and has for its object the utilization of exhaust-steam for heating air to be used in warming buildings, or for supplying pure water by condensation of the steam for feeding steam-boilers…”
Edward Kendall & Sons were in business until Edward Kendall retired in 1905. Kendall was a Prohibition Party candidate, including being the Party’s candidate for governor. He was referred to as “Deacon” in recognition of his years of service in the Pilgram Congregational Church. Kendall Square is named after Edward Kendall.
Osman S. Armstrong (1857-1933)Electric Gas Lighting Apparatus. Patent No. 241,115. 1881.
The year Osman received his patent he was listed in the Directory as a bookbinder at the Riverside Press, living at 56 Trowbridge St. He became quite the sailor. On June 7, 1890, The Cambridge Tribune commented “Mr. Osman S. Armstrong of Putnam Avenue is the owner of one of the staunchest little crafts afloat in the bay at South Boston.” Later articles referred to his taking first prize in championship race of the Bay View Yacht Club, and his 1889 cruise from Boston to Newcastle, NH. In 1906 a newspaper identified him as an Assistant Superintendent at the Riverside Press.
Be it known that I, Osmon S. Armstrong of Cambridge…, have invented a new and useful Improvement in Electric Gas-Lighting Apparatus, of which the following is a full, clear, and exact description, reference being bad to the accompanying drawings, forming part of the specification.
John P. Jamison (1822-?) Wood Ornamentation. Patent No. 299,984. 1884.
In 1877 Jamison was listed in the Directory as an organ stop maker, living at Florence St. In the 1880 Census he lists himself as “engineer.” In 1884, the date he received this patent, he was 62 years old, and still at 8 Florence St with his occupation listed as machine carving.
“My invention relates to a machine for ornamenting wood in imitation of carving by compression; and it consists in the combination of two die-rolls arranged to revolve in unison and act upon the material in succession, one die being constructed to outline the surfaces to be depressed by cutting…and the other die being constructed…to operate to depress the portions so outlined and complete the design.”
Almond Franklin Cooper (1819-1914) Screw Cap for Metal Cans Patent No. 314,227. 1885.
A descendant of James Fenimore Cooper, Almond F. Cooper lived on Ellery St in Cambridge from about 1872 -1885. Starting off as an agent for the Boston Car Co., by the time of his patent Cooper was president and treasurer of the Boston Standard Car Wheel Co. at 21 Hampshire St. His obituary noted that he had “crossed the continent fifteen times and had twice encircled the globe…he formerly lived in California and was one of the first to look for gold in 1849.” [The Times Union (NY) September 2, 1914]
“My invention relates to an improvement in screw-caps for metal cans and other vessels, and has for its object to enable the cap to be more readily and quickly loosened and unscrewed, or turned down firmly onto it seat or bearing. These caps have hitherto been turned either by the application of the thumb and finger directly to the side thereof, or by means of a removable wrench applied thereto; but these methods are objectionable, as it is not always possible to start or unloosen the cap with the fingers along, while the wrench is liable to be mislaid and not be at hand when wanted. My invention has for its object to overcome these objections…”
Andrew Geyer (1837-1890) Two inventions: 1) Nursing Bottle Patent No. 18,420. 1888 and 2) “Safety Device for Druggists’ Bottles” Patent No. 392,861. 1888.
Geyer was a pharmacist who migrated to Cambridge from Essex, Mass and in 1876 opened up his “Apothecary Store” at the corner of Cambridge and Third Streets in East Cambridge. He was active in Republican politics and was a director of the Cambridge Co-Operative Bank. Geyer died of pneumonia at the age of 53. He was the recipient of two patents for bottle design in 1888. The first was his nursing bottle:
“the leading feature of my design is a bottle of circular shape having one flat side, a flat end, and an inclined or curved neck,….”
His second invention: “Safety Device for Druggists’ Bottles” Patent No. 392,861.1888.
“This invention relates to a… device for securing bottles in place on the shelves on which they are located, so as to prevent the bottle from being removed from the shelf until-the neck-holding device has been first released and expanded.
“In drug stores it is customary to place bottles containing poisons side by side on the same shelf with harmless and non-poisonous medicines. In dispensing medicines fatal and serious accidents have occurred, and are liable to occur, by the carelessness of the dispenser mistaking the poison-containing bottle for another; and to avoid such accidents is the object of my invention…” Or, as The Cambridge Chronicle described it:
The Cambridge Chronicle November 24, 1888
Charles William Rugg (1839-1918) Steam Heating Apparatus Patent No. 348,932. 1886.
During the Civil War, (May of 1864-February 1865) Rugg served as an assistant engineer in the Navy. He was discharged due to a heart ailment. In 1886 Rugg was listed in the Directory as an engineer at 162 Broadway (the factory of Mason & Hamlin Organ and Piano Company), living at 100 Putnam Avenue. He was Commander of Post 30, Grand Army of the Republic.
The Cambridge Chronicle May 2, 1891
Louis Alexandre Touchet, Jr. (1853-1913) Passenger Register Patent No. 286,349. 1883.
In the 1883 Directory Louis Alexandre Touchet, Jr. was listed as an Organ Finisher living at 44 Clark Street. As described in The Cambridge Chronicle (June 23, 1883),
“Louis A. Touchet, an intelligent resident of this city, has invented a fare register….which he believes will reduce stealing to a minimum, and also provide for an income to the companies using it. The invention consists of a box carried with a strap over the neck of the conductor, into which all tickets …are put through an aperture in the top…The apparatus receives tickets, registers fares, and serves as an advertiser on a large scale…”(excerpt)
“My invention relates to that class of fare registers which are designed for use with horse-cars, omnibuses, and similar vehicles; and it consists in a novel construction and arrangement of the parts… by which a more effective device of this character is produced than is now in ordinary use. “
Charles Franklin Davenport (1812-1903) and Albert Bridges (1812-1881) Manner of Constructing Railroad Carriages so as to ease the Lateral Motion of the Bodies Thereof Patent No. 2,027. 1841. Reissued 1850 Patent No. 183
Portrait of Charles Davenport (1812–1903) from Massachusetts of To-Day: A Memorial of the State, Historical and Biographical, Issued for the World’s Columbian Exposition at Chicago, 1892, page 305
Since 1828, Davenport had been involved in the car manufacturing business. Directory 1848: Davenport listed as a car manufacturer (Davenport & Bridges) living on Harvard St near Cross St. Bridges is listed with the same firm, and his home was on Norfolk St. Davenport was a Director of the Hancock Free Bridge Corp., a railroad entrepreneur, and champion of improving the Cambridge side of the Charles River Embankment.
Cambridge City Directory, 1848
“…Charles Davenport and Albert Bridges both of Cambridgeport…have invented a new and useful improvement in railroad carriages by which the inconvenience to passengers arising from the sudden lateral motion of the wheels on the rails is obviated…Most persons, who travel by railroad, experience a continual repetition of sudden jars or shocks, arising from the side way movement of the flanches of the wheels of the car, against the rails of the track, and so extensive are the evils of their frequent shocks, that besides being greatly to the discomfort of the passengers, preventing them almost entirely from reading while traveling in this manner it is highly injurious to the carriages causing the joints and other parts to become loose and soon deranged. The object of our improvements is to obviate the effects of the above lateral motion….”
Today’s post was written by Kathleen M. Fox
SOURCES
“Alvan Clark (1804-1887), George Bassett Clark (1827-1891) and Alvan Graham Clark (1832-1897), American Makers of Telescope Optics” by Pedro Ré. http://astrosurf.com/re/alvan_clark.pdf.
Ration book for Rose Shapiro Brown, college graduate, of Cambridge. Image: Cambridge Historical Commission.
80 years ago, on August 15, 1945, Emperor Hirohito of Japan surrendered, though the official ceremony took place later that year on September 2. Thus marked the end of World War II. This anniversary brings to mind an aspect of daily life on the home front during the war that many today may not know much about: rationing and salvaging. How the needs of WWII permeated daily life has not been seen in subsequent wars and is nearly inconceivable today. As you read this piece, consider how profoundly altered your daily life would be if a similar system were put in place today. In the United States, rationing began in early 1942 and formally ended in 1947.
After the bombing of Pearl Harbor in 1941, joining the war created an immediate and substantial need for metals, electricity, gasoline, food, clothing, tires—virtually everything—to support war production. This led to the rationing system which was designed to ensure that enough essential materials were available for weapons and troop support. Secondarily, rationing aimed to equalize the distribution system for all commodities among citizens and control inflation.
The Office of Price Administration (OPA) was created to administer the rationing system. Subsequent Acts of Congress further regulated rents and wages, and regulated the cost of living.
“When you have used your ration, salvage the Tin Cans and Waste Fats.They are needed to make munitions for our fighting men. Cooperate with youLocal Salvage Committee.” Image: The National WWII Museum, New Orleans. https://www.nationalww2museum.org/
How did the system work?
It was very, very complicated. Administering the program required 8,000 Ration Boards in cities and towns across the country. Ration Books like those above included stamps which did not have a dollar value, but, in addition to dollars, they were required for every purchase. Each member of a family (including infants and children) was required to have a ration book in their name. A person registering for ration books for a whole family needed to present the names, height, weight, eye color, hair color, and sex of each family member and state their relationship to them (natural born, adopted, spouse, etc.).
The books were issued monthly: if the books were used up, the customer had to wait for the succeeding month’s book to get enough stamps to purchase the item. In addition, stamps were numbered to be used only for a specific period of time to prevent hoarding. When the time limit was reached, the stamp was voided. Information about where to get War Ration Books and how to use them was posted in the newspapers leading up to the distribution event. In Cambridge, the books were distributed at public schools.
Stamps had a variety of images: airplane, torch, tank, aircraft carrier, wheat, fruit, etc. as well as alphabetic lettering:
Images gathered from eBay and Yahoo Image Search
Point Rationing
In addition to ration stamps, the system of “Point” rationing was particularly complicated. The point value of a particular item was based on the current availability of the product. This meant that point values changed depending on the supply and demand. The Office of Price Administration published regular updates on changing values:
The Cambridge Sentinel January 23, 1943 (excerpt)
First National grocery store advert (excerpt) as published in The Cambridge Chronicle March 23, 1944
Eventually, the government also issued dime-sized tokens to enable vendors to make “change” for stamps. Red tokens were used as change for red stamps and blue tokens to make change for blue stamps.
The details in the articles below illustrate just how much there was to keep track of before you went to the grocery store!
The Cambridge Sentinel March 6, 1943
The Cambridge Sentinel April 24, 1943
“How to Shop With War Ration Book Two… to Buy Canned, Bottled and Frozen Fruits and Vegetables; Dried Fruits, Juices and all Canned Soups.” Office of Price Administration, February 1943. Collection of the National Archives and Records Administration (NAID: 514549).
Got it? When making purchases, the correct stamp had to be torn out of your book in front the cashier. You could not redeem detached stamps. This was to discourage the black-market stamp trade.
“Stamp Out Black Markets With Your Ration Stamps” WWII Posters Collection, World War II Papers, Military Collections, State Archives of North Carolina.
The first item rationed by the OPA, on December 21, 1941, was rubber. The quota for Cambridge was set at 300,000 lbs.
The Cambridge Sentinel December 20, 1941
In addition to collecting the obvious objects like rubber tires, other items collected for this rubber drive included girdles, rubber shoes, bed pans, gloves, floor mats, and crutch tips. The Central Square Theatre put on a free show for children arriving with rubber scraps. They collected 2.5 tons!
The Cambridge Chronicle July 16, 1942
In the case of toothpaste (which came in metal tubes), before you could purchase a new tube you had to hand over the empty tube so that the metal could be recycled for the war effort. One advertisement stated that “thirty-two toothpaste tubes contain the tin needed for a fighter plane.”
A War Production Board poster encourages Americans to contribute items made with tin to be recycled for use in the war effort. Credit: War Department via defense.gov.
Rationing Food
“…one-fourth of all the food that is going to be produced here during 1943 will go to U. S. armed forces, outside of its boundaries to feed the peoples of the United Nations and those peoples in lands occupied by the Axis…”
TheCambridge Sentinel January 23, 1943
To address complaints of citizens about the privations of rationing system, and in particular, about the U.S. sending food to our allies, the Director of the Office of War Information (OFI) Elmer Davis, delivered a radio speech on December 27, 1942 explaining the reasoning behind this aspect of the system:
“This war can be won only by killing enough Germans to discourage the rest of them. Enough Japanese too, but we can leave them out of this discussion; since in the Pacific area we get food from our allies, instead of sending it to them. Now the Russians, so far, have killed more Germans than everybody else put together; and that is why it makes sense for us to send food to Russia…We send food to the Russian army, because every German who is killed by a Russian is a German whom we won’t have to kill; or, for that matter, a German who will never have a chance to kill American Soldiers.”
New York Times December 28, 1942
After rubber, the next item to be rationed was sugar. Alerts about sugar shortages went out about three months after Pearl Harbor.
“Consumers will have to certify the amount of sugar they have on hand when they register for war ration book No. 1…Each person was allowed to have two pounds of sugar prior to registration. For all sugar in excess of two pounds per person, stamps were torn out of the ration book, preventing further purchase of sugar until the hoards are used up….”
TheCambridge Sentinel March 7, 1942
Book of 5-Pound Home Canning Sugar Coupons, ca. 1943. Robinson and Via Family Papers, National Museum of American History.
The Cambridge Chronicle April 30, 1942
Automobiles, Gas, and Mileage
As well as rationing fuel, gas and mileage rationing was another way to manage the use of rubber and the consumption of gasoline. All car owners had to register their cars for the relevant sticker determined by their car usage. Some of these included:
A = Basic sticker for passenger cars. Allowed 3 to 4 US gallons of gas per week and max 150 miles/mo.
B = For those who could prove that their job required driving more than 150 miles per month. They also had to carry 3 or more passengers. 8 gallons of gas/week.
C = Supplemental sticker for those whose “professional” job required up to 470 miles/mo. (Doctors, dentists)
D = Motorcyclists essential to the war effort. Same ratio of miles as the “A” sticker. 2 gallons/wk.
R = Non-highway vehicles such as tractors.
T = Commercial trucking: 5 gal/wk.
X =Highest priority stickers for those with extraordinary mileage allowances. Some Congressmen also wrangled these. Unlimited gasoline.
Soon enough the joke was circulating that “OPA” stood for “Only A Puny A-Card.”
With the exception of shoes, (rationed beginning in 1943) clothing in general was not rationed. However, since textiles such as wool (for uniforms) and silk (for parachutes) were needed in the war effort, and because clothing factories switched from making civilian clothes to military uniforms, supply was limited. The War Production Board encouraged people to consider reusing, sewing, and mending clothes as their patriotic duty.
1943 Poster: Use It Up, Wear It Out, Make it Do! by Robert Gwathmey. Courtesy PosterGroup.com
1942 poster, Work Projects Administration for the City of New York. War Services.National Museum of American History.
In addition, in 1942, the War Production Board did put restrictions on clothing manufacturers via a policy referred to as the “L-85 Regulations,” limiting how much fabric manufacturers could use to produce civilian clothing. This meant that women’s skirts became shorter, used fewer buttons, and eliminated flaps on pockets and “balloon” blouse sleeves. Men’s suits also had no pocket flaps, narrow labels, and were only single breasted.
The Salvage Operation
Salvaging materials to meet the needs of war production was immense and equally as important as rationing. The clips below effectively illuminate the reasoning, communications, and the systems for salvage collection. Most compelling were those articles that outlined how many pounds or tons of an item were needed to produce specific war necessities. For instance, in the “Save Scrap” advert below we learn that 25 pounds of wastepaper can make eight shell containers. Posters were excellently designed—look at the view down the barrel of an artillery gun (below) calling for saving waste fats. The language and images used to encourage salvaging are so vivid they speak for themselves. And don’t miss the last item in this news report re: ladies hosiery!
The Cambridge Chronicle January 29, 1943 (excerpt)
The Cambridge Sentinel April 18, 1942
The Cambridge Sentinel October 10, 1942
The Cambridge Sentinel September 19, 1942
Scrap iron for war effort, WWII. Courtesy of the Boston Public Library, Leslie Jones Collection.
The Cambridge Sentinel September 5, 1942
The Cambridge Sentinel February 6, 1943
“One tablespoonful of kitchen grease fires five bullets.” “One pound of kitchen fats makes enough dynamite to blow up a bridge.” Poster: Save Waste Fats For Gunpowder, artist unknown. Courtesy PosterGroup.com
The Cambridge Sentinel October 28, 1944
War ad calling for waste fats collection. Image via Reddit.
Poster “Waste Paper Makes Containers for Blood Plasma” ca. 1941-45. National Archives and Records Administration.
The Cambridge Chronicle November 18, 1943 (excerpt)
Cambridge aiming to collect 555,000 pounds of wastepaper:
The Cambridge Sentinel November 27, 1943
Virtually all countries – Axis or Allied – had a rationing system during the war. In the United States, rationing was ended in stages as supply met demand, but goods remained in short supply after the war.
Rationed Items
Rationing Duration
Tires
January 1942 to December 1945
Cars
February 1942 to October 1945
Bicycles
July 1942 to September 1945
Gasoline
May 1942 to August 1945
Fuel Oil & Kerosene
October 1942 to August 1945
Solid Fuels
September 1943 to August 1945
Stoves
December 1942 to August 1945
Rubber Footwear
October 1942 to September 1945
Shoes
February 1943 to October 1945
Sugar
May 1942 to 1947
Coffee
November 1942 to July 1943
Processed Foods
March 1943 to August 1945
Meats, canned fish
March 1943 to November 1945
Cheese, canned milk, fats
March 1943 to November 1945
Typewriters
March 1942 to April 1944
Duration of commodities rationed in the United States during WWII. Courtesy Ames History Museum.
After the War
The complexities of transitioning from wartime production to peacetime production was anticipated as early as 1942, as seen in this in this excerpt from an article just as rationing was beginning:
The Cambridge Sentinel January 17, 1942
Manufacturers Do Their Part
Wartime needs produced a boom in manufacturing. Many American companies pivoted their manufacturing capabilities to support the war effort. One such company was Maidenform, a manufacturer of women’s bras, underwear, and shapewear. Maidenform began producing vests and parachutes for homing pigeons who accompanied paratroopers and often delivered critical messages. For more on this astonishing story, read “Pigeons in bras go to war” by Lindsay Keating: https://americanhistory.si.edu/explore/stories/pigeons-bras-go-war.
After the war, retooling factories for peacetime production presented a different sort of challenge such as shifting from making tanks to making cars. Nonetheless, celebration prevailed:
The Cambridge Chronicle September 13, 1945
Today’s post was written by CHC volunteer Kathleen M. Fox
How many times have you fumed at an interminably slow traffic light or at people “running the light,” or been “rear-ended” while waiting? It’s hard to imagine driving in the city these days without traffic lights, but 100 years ago there were none.
But first, we can’t talk about traffic lights without a brief detour into the history of driver’s licenses. After all, the need for traffic lights arose from the number of cars on the road.
According to the American Automobile Association, in 1903, “Massachusetts (and Missouri) became the first states to require a driver’s license….when the first licenses were issued, they weren’t used to prove a motorist was a capable driver. By and large, anyone with a pulse and a car could obtain one”
Rhode Island was the first state to require a written test to obtain a license in 1908. Amazingly, it wasn’t until 1959 that all states required an exam to get a driver’s license. (South Dakota was the holdout.)
According to the Federal Highway Administration, in 2019, Massachusetts had 4,950,056 licensed drivers. No wonder we need traffic lights!
In the 1920s, licensed drivers were often referred to as “Autoists” in the press.
Cambridge Chronicle June 25, 1921
Prior to electric traffic lights traffic was directed by a traffic officer at intersections. This inevitably led to complaints about the officer holding up traffic in one direction in favor of waving through traffic in another direction. Discussions about installing traffic signals began in earnest in the mid-1920s when permission was given to “install a signal box for a new automobile traffic signal at the corner of Boylston [now JFK] and Mount Auburn Streets.” (Cambridge Tribune December 6, 1924) Permission was granted, and a few weeks later the Cambridge Tribune updated the situation: “Illuminated arrows direct the driver to the right, and an especial signal of red and yellow lights in combination, stops vehicular traffic while pedestrians cross the street in any direction safely.” (Cambridge Tribune December 27, 1924)
Central Square acquired its first traffic signal in 1924. This led to a kerfuffle about angle vs. parallel parking in town. The point of the traffic signal was to speed traffic but some felt that goal was hampered by “angle parking,” (car front end to curb). Of course, angle parking is much easier than parallel parking, hence the debate. Angle parking “delayed the speed of autos, which is necessary because of the new traffic signal in Central square.”
Cambridge Sentinel June 21, 1924
Eight months later the issue remained unresolved:
Cambridge Sentinel December 13, 1924
Apart from the parking problem, the advent of traffic lights generated a lot of other discussions. Where should traffic lights be placed? Should there be “safety islands’? How should they be timed? Should traffic officers trigger the lights? Should officers use loudspeakers? What colors should be used and in what sequence? Amber (what we now call yellow), green and red? Green and red only? Apparently, it was the amber light that caused the most confusion. In 1929, the Cambridge Sentinel reported on the results of a study of how many colors – – and what they mean – – are used in traffic lights in cities throughout the U. S.
The study noted, “Working on the information that persons who are to some extent color blind constitute 5 percent of the population, the bureau of standards has selected colors which are distinguishable to most if not all persons having defective color vision” (Cambridge Sentinel February 23, 1929)
In 1925 a traffic booth was installed In Central Square.
Cambridge Tribune March 28, 1925
The new electric traffic light worked automatically, thereby eliminating the need for a traffic officer. The Tribune went on, “It has three controls so that traffic can be handled according to its call. By setting it on the first control, traffic will be allowed to go up and down the avenue for 30 seconds and across the avenue for 30 seconds; second control allows traffic to go up and down the avenue for 40 seconds, across the avenue for 20 seconds; third control allows traffic to go up and down the avenue 25 seconds, across the avenue for 35 seconds.” [Got that??]
“The device has three colored spaces on each side. The top one which is read reads “Stop,” the middle being white reads “Change of Traffic.” There are three seconds between the signals so that each one has a fair chance to get his or her car under control. The bottom space is green, and reads “Go.” On top of the device there is a red light which is lighted at all times so that it can be seen my any one, therefore eliminating trouble by saying that they could not see it.”
Shortly thereafter the Chronicle outlined two suggestions for improvements to the “auto-cop” made by pedestrians and traffic officers alike, “…by which Central square’s new auto-cop might be distinctly improved upon….that the alarm bell, which rings to signal a traffic change, should be considerably louder…a more staccato note…would prove doubly effective… the second suggestion is that, during the interval of “traffic change,” when these words are outlined in white light in the center of the device, all other signals should disappear. An approaching motorist will tend to keep aright on going as long as he sees the word “Go” inviting him to do so.” (Cambridge Chronicle May 9, 1925.)
On June 5th, 1926, the Cambridge Chronicle reported that a “new” General Electric traffic signal had been put in operation the previous Saturday in Central Square. It featured a booth for a traffic officer who operated the signal.
That sounded hopeful. But the following year, after several traffic accidents involving officers, the police chief recommended what he called a “Fifth Avenue” system of lights for Massachusetts Avenue. (This system was named after the street in New York City where it was already in use.) Also known as the “wave” system, it coordinated traffic signals at each intersection so that if traffic moved at a given speed, they would never “hit the light” and be stopped. It’s not clear from the newspapers whether or not this was adopted.
Philadelphia had an interesting method of activating the lights:
“Mrs. I. T. Holton tests a new automatic traffic control installation which is being in tested in Philadelphia’s suburbs. It is designed to allow a motorist to cut into a busy traffic artery from a side street. By sounding her horn Mrs. Holton is changing the lights through a device which gathers the sounds and uses them to motivate an electrical sequence.” (Cambridge Sentinel May 4, 1929.)
It took some time for motorists to get used to traffic lights on traffic islands:
Cambridge Chronicle November 15, 1929
The article continues, “City Electrician O’Hearn, who has charge of installing the traffic signal system of which the traffic lights on the “safety island” are an important part, things that a change in reflectors will make them more conspicuous so that the motorists will pay more attention to them. He blames the motorists for the accidents …He expects that the motorists will soon get used to them…”
Jumping ahead about 7 decades, in 1994 the Cambridge Chronicle launched a new weekly column named “Road Gripe of the Week”
Cambridge Chronicle February 17, 1994
Today Cambridge has 128 standard yellow, green, and red lights; 14 flash beacons operating nonstop, 33 rapid flash beacons activated by pedestrians, and 31 timed school zone beacons operating during school drop-off and pick-up times.
Cambridge Open Archives registration is now live! This annual event offers the rare chance to go behind the scenes with a number of unique archives and collecting repositories right here in Cambridge. This event is free and open to the public, but registration is required: click below to view participating repositories and sign up for individual tours taking place June 5-9.
“THE COMET AND PLANET BUSINESS. – Are not our scientific friends in Harvard, and elsewhere, carrying this planet and comet business rather too far? A new planet in the course of three or four years, and a comet a year, will dovery well, but this finding a planet every week, and a new comet daily – is it not running the thing into the ground?… (Reprint from the Providence Journal in the Cambridge Chronicle May 29, 1852.)
Selling time? Huh? Read on. To celebrate International Astronomy Day on April 29, we’re taking a brief look at the Harvard College Observatory. Volumes have been written about the Observatory and its scientific achievements, so this post will focus on the beginning years.
It turns out that an observatory is useful for a lot more than just looking for stars in outer space: observatories are crucial to finding your way around down here on Earth, too. As it says on the Smithsonian Institution website: “If you want to know where you are, you need a reliable clock.”[i] But what does that have to do with “selling time?”
In the early 1800s, Europe was far ahead of the U. S. in terms of astronomical research—just think of Copernicus or Galileo. By 1825, Europe was home to at least 130 observatories.[ii] Although faculty at Harvard had begun thinking about building an observatory as early as 1805, it was not until 1815 that the Harvard Corporation voted to “consider upon the subject of an Observatory.” It took another 14 years for this expensive project to emerge. In 1839, the first iteration of the Observatory was organized on the grounds of the Dana House on Quincy Street in Cambridge, near the present-day Houghton Library. The Dana House was moved in 1947 across the street to its current location at #16 Quincy St.
The Dana-Palmer House (built 1822) showing lantern that was once used for astronomical viewing (no date). Harvard Plate Stacks, photo HCO-PHO-078.004
That same year, the most local reliable timekeeper was William Cranch Bond (1789-1859), a well-known clockmaker and an amateur astronomer. Harvard was happy to accept Bond’s offer of his own private equipment for the first observatory. Bond’s marine chronometer (the scientific name for a very precise time-measuring device used to determine longitude at sea) was so accurate that it was used by the U. S. Navy. Bond was subsequently appointed the first “Astronomical Observer to the University”—then, a position without pay. At the time, the observatory was referred to in the press as the “Cambridge Observatory.” In 1847, Bond was appointed as the first director of the observatory at its new location at 60 Garden Street.
A second building, erected to house the Lloyd Magnetic apparatus for measuring the meridian, had to be built near the Dana House. To do so, the College had to “purchase the privilege of tunneling under a neighboring building in order to procure a sight of the meridian mark.” The building was constructed with no use of iron, which would have distorted magnetic readings. A concurrent development was taking place in Europe, the use of which would affect the work of astronomers across the globe: in 1839, Louis Daguerre invented the daguerreotype, which enabled the scientists at the Observatory to capture images of astronomical sightings, rather than drawing them by hand.
The Unknown Comet that Changed Everything
In 1843, a previously unknown comet seen by the naked eye zoomed into view, generating immense interest among the population:
Boston Daily Mail March 10, 1843
The Bee [Boston] March 9, 1843
Harvard seized the opportunity created by the comet craze to launch a fundraising campaign to acquire high quality instruments and a more suitable location for the Observatory. So it was that in 1843, ground was broken for the Observatory on what was then known as “Summer House Hill” at its current location, 60 Garden Street. Meanwhile, orders were being placed in Europe for the best telescopes and instruments, including what would become the largest telescope in the United States—The Great Refractor.
Detail: 1854 Walling map
By 1847, the observatory was up and running. The building was oriented to North/South for the purpose of celestial measurements, (rather than parallel to the street), and made earthquake proof. The telescope’s granite base extends 26 feet below ground and is 43 feet high from the ground up. Most spectacularly, the glass lens, shipped from Germany, was installed on top of the gargantuan base—known the Sears Tower, named for Boston philanthropist David Sears, who was a major player in raising money for the new observatory in 1839.
The crush of visitors to the telescope (at no charge) was so huge such that director Bond wrote to the President of the University (Edward Everett) to reverse the university’s policy of open visitation:
“…the number of visitors has been constantly on the increase for several weeks. On the last public evening there were probably four hundred persons present. These crowded into a space of thirty feet in diameter, the mass rapidly condensing near the point of observation, rendered the management of an instrument of several tons weight, and so nicely balanced as to be turned by a finger, extremely hazardous; while from the quick succession in which the observers were obliged to follow each other, affording perhaps upon an average of a quarter of a minute to each one, it was impossible that any individual could derive much instruction.” (The Cambridge Chronicle October 28, 1847). Bond was also concerned about the amount of dust raised by all those visitors tramping over the floorboards infiltrating the delicate mechanism.
In addition to the Great Refractor dome, rooms for other magnetic equipment needed to be built. These included the equatorial room, the transit circle room, the prime-vertical room, and locations for the meridian-transit instrument, the horizontal-force magnetometer, the declination magnetometer, the reading telescopes, the small altitude and azimuth instrument, the transit (or sidereal) clock—got that? Once again, these spaces were constructed using no iron.
Once the Great Refractor was installed, scientists began taking photographs. Photographs taken at the observatory greatly amplified the knowledge of stars, planets, and constellations. In 1849, photographer John A. Whipple (1822-1891) took a daguerreotype of the moon on Harvard’s Great Refractor (shown below). This image won Whipple a gold medal at the Crystal Palace exposition in London in 1851.
After photographic means were further developed, the observatory began creating negatives on glass plates measuring 8” x 10”. By 1893, the number of glass plates amounted to 30,000 and in total weighed nearly eight tons!
Below is an example of a glass plate negative. The three big circles are the constellation Orion’s Belt. See all those little dots that look like dust? Those are also stars or constellations. It was all hands on deck to find people to analyze and catalogue each dot. And those people were women.
Image: Astronomical Photographic Glass Plate Collection, Center for Astrophysics | Harvard & Smithsonian
The women were called “computers.” Hired by the observatory beginning in 1875, the computers were paid 25-30 cents/hour and worked six days a week. The pioneer of this cohort seems to be Miss. Rhoda G. Saunders, who was hired for $600 per year in 1875, and worked at the Observatory until 1888, when she got married. Saunders first appeared listed as a “computer” in the Cambridge City Directory of 1877:
The image of a broken glass plate below illustrates how fragile the plates were, as well as the identification numbers added by the “computers.”
Repaired glass plate negative. Image by Kathleen Fox
The next image shows how the glass plates were historically stored when not in use—each in its own annotated file on the shelves. Also seen to the left of the shelving stacks is a group photo of the women computers:
Glass plate stacks: Image: Kathleen Fox
[Observatory computer room and staff], 1891. Harvard University Archives / HUV 1210 (9-4). Harvard Libraries. The women and their tools were staged for the photograph.
Hiring women for scientific work was such big news that it made it as far as a newspaper in Wisconsin:
Image: the Wisconsin State Journal, January 24, 1882
Click here for a list of women astronomical computers at Harvard.
By 1893, the Observatory needed new storage space for all the glass plates. By running a pulley along a rope to the storage site in a new building, they managed to move all the plates without breaking one. The rate of transfer was about 6,000 plates per hour. Today, there are over 500,500 glass plate negatives of photographs of stars, planets, and constellations in the Astronomical Photographic Plate collection.
FUN FACTS ABOUT THE HARVARD-SMITHSONIAN OBSERVATORY
– Observatory Hill. Once the Observatory was relocated to Garden Street, people began referring to the area in general as “Observatory Hill.” In 1895, the Cambridge Chronicle established a regular column titled “Observatory Hill” to relay the goings on in the neighborhood.
– Selling time. How can one sell time? Turns out it was big business. The proliferation of railroad companies, each running their trains on separate timetables, created dangerous problems. Once again, our hero William C. Bond came to the rescue. Bond and his sons developed a prototype for transmitting accurate time measurements they called the “Spring Governor.” By 1851, the Bond family had perfected the technology and were able to send electronic signals from the clocks in the Cambridge Observatory to clocks in Boston through telegraph wires. The railroads were interested, and soon Harvard was “selling time”—in other words the Bonds sold rights to use their time system. Harvard made about $2,400 per year with the enterprise until the U. S. Naval Observatory took over time standardization.
– Outpost observatories Thanks to a large donation in 1890, Harvard was able to set up an observatory station in Arequipa, Peru. It was named the Boyden station, after Uriah Boyden, a Boston civil and mechanical engineer, and the inventor of the Boyden turbine. In 1926/27 the Boyden station in Arequipa was moved to Bloemfontein South Africa.
–The Smithsonian connection. In 1955, the Smithsonian Astrophysical Observatory relocated to Cambridge, and in 1973 the Smithsonian and Harvard Observatories combined, forming The Center for Astrophysics | Harvard & Smithsonian.
– The end of glass plate negatives. By 1992, advanced technology had made glass plate negatives obsolete, and the program was shut down.
We leave you with these somewhat hokey astronomical jokes:
“It is said that in space, no one can hear you laugh. That explains the silence.”
“The rotation of the earth makes my day.”
“What did Mars say to Saturn? Give me a ring sometime.”
Image: View of Harvard College Observatory 1893-1930.
Today, we’re wrapping up our exploration of electricity and its uses, starting with…
Electric Appliances
Cambridge Chronicle November 11, 1916
The Cambridge Tribune January 28, 1888 (excerpt)
Electric appliances were sold by the electric company, not by what we would think of today as an appliance store. Here is what was on offer in 1916 at the Cambridge Electric Light Co.
Cambridge Chronicle December 2, 1916
Electric irons were sold for only $2.00:
Cambridge Tribune June 29, 1907
Electric refrigerators were invented in 1913, but not mass produced until 1918.
“Electrical Notes” Cambridge Sentinel August 1, 1914
Cambridge Tribune March 26, 1921
Electric vacuums: One of our favorite descriptions of an electrical appliance is this one for the “Dirt Annihilator”:
Cambridge Sentinel November 10, 1917
Electric fans and stoves:
Cambridge Chronicle June 24, 1921
Electric washing machine. The first electric washing machine was invented in 1901 by Mr. Alva Fisher. It was not mass produced for several years.
Cambridge Chronicle March 8, 1919
Cambridge Sentinel August 29, 1914
Electric doorbells were invented as early as 1832 by American scientist Joseph Henry, mentioned above, who was later the first Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution. But because the doorbells depended on expensive electric batteries, the product didn’t really take hold until about 1913, when transformers replaced the need for batteries.
Electric clocks were first invented in 1840, relying on a combination of battery and spring pendulum. A “self-contained battery driven clock,” didn’t hit the market until around 1906.
Let us not forget the 1888 Cambridge baseball team named The Electrics.
Cambridge Chronicle July 28, 1888
Though many aspects of daily life were made easier and safer by electricity, there were still issues. We’re reminded of the expression by Maggie Smith’s Downton Abbey character, the Countess of Grantham, in response to electric illumination: “Sometimes I feel as if I were living in an HG Wells novel. But the young are all so calm about change, aren’t they?”
Medical consequences were just one concern on the public’s mind. How about this reference to electricity causing cholera in 1849:
Cambridge Chronicle July 26, 1849
Of course, the medical community lost no time in advertising electrical remedies for whatever ailed you. As early as 1853, Edward C. Rogers was advertising his services as a “Medical Electrician”:
Cambridge Chronicle June 11, 1853
A few decades later, Dr. J. D. Werner bragged that his practice included the “intelligent” use of Medical Electricity.
Cambridge Chronical December 31, 1881
Some of these practices were no doubt precursors to the contemporary and medically-accepted use of electricity to treat mental disorders, such as ECT (electroconvulsive therapy). However, there is something about using Dr. Rhodes’ “Electric Transfusing Battery” to cure everything from rheumatism to flatulence, that seems a little suspicious:
The above ad from the June 26, 1880 edition of The Cambridge Chronicle goes on to list many additional ailments, purported to be cured by his “electrical transfusing battery”, including: Gout, Swollen Joints, Sciatica, Lumbago, Spinal Disease, Wasting, Decay, Restless Nights, Nightmare, Lack of Power of Will, Loss of Confidence, Hysteria, Epilepsy, Heartburn, Dropsy, Asthma, Pleurisy, Jaundice, Seminal weakness, Female Complaints” Oh my!
The interest in the miracle of electricity did not fade during the 20th century. By 1913, the Cambridge Sentinel still saw fit to have a regular column “The Electrical World” (or sometimes “Electrical Notes”) consisting of random reporting about the uses of electricity worldwide. For instance, the world-shattering fact that “seven electric motor trucks will be purchased by the Manila post office.” Wow! Some other snippets from 1913 and 1914 include:
1913
1914
(Nationally-known market gardener Warren W. Rawson was employing the same electrical technique in his greenhouses in Arlington, Mass)
As we’ve seen above, every new technology spawns new jobs, vocabulary, and idioms. Between 1880 and 1899 inclusively, the word “electric” appeared in the Cambridge Chronicle 5,020 times and in the Cambridge Tribune 3,455 times.
In searching the Cambridge City Directory for jobs self-identified as associated with electricity, we find that in 1880 there was only one electrician listed: William H. Humans, who lived at #11 Rogers Block, on Main Street. The Cambridge Electric Light Co. was located nearby at #23 Main Street. By 1900, there were 140 listed electricians.
The life-changing effect of electricity on private lives is pretty well summed up in this excerpt from a description of soap manufacturer Edward D. Mellon’s new house in 1898:
So…Ever been amped up? Or gone out like a light? Had a “lightbulb” moment? Close your eyes now and just imagine how differently our experience of nighttime would have been before the advent of electricity
“We had the sky, up there, all speckled with stars, and we used to lay on our backs and look up at them, and discuss about whether they was made, or only just happened—Jim he allowed they was made, but I allowed they happened; I judged it would have took too long to make so many.”
– Mark Twain
Today’s post was written by CHC volunteer Kathleen Fox.
SOURCES
Building Old Cambridge. Susan E. Maycock and Charles M. Sullivan, 2016 Cambridge Historical Commission; the MIT Press
