Pottery-making is one of America’s most ancient crafts. For many potters, making stoneware from clay, then firing it in a kiln, was a business that required little start-up capital, but often resulted in a business that quickly died. However, for those rare successes, the pottery-making business often was passed from generation to generation. And there were few, if any, stoneware families more prominent than the Crolius family. In 1730, William Crolius, a German immigrant from the Rhineland, which itself had a rich tradition of pottery-making, established his stoneware business on Pot Baker’s Hill in Manhattan. You might have guessed: the Crolius family of potters are interred at Green-Wood Cemetery.

Pot Baker’s Hill was  a marshy and undeveloped area in Manhattan, just north of today’s City Hall, and just east of Broadway. It was on the outskirts of the 18th-century city.

The Maerschalk Plan of New York City was published in 1755. This detail shows the "Negros Burial Ground" (rediscovered, starting in 1991, and now known as the African Burial Ground) at top right. Note the two "Pot Baker(s)" marked nearby; one of them was William Crolius's kiln. The Commons (labelled on the map) later would become City Hall Park. Broadway has yet to appear in this part of the map, although the building line above the Commons shows where it would be. Note also the "Palisades," marking the end of the fortified city.
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In fact, some of the earliest lots at Green-Wood–lots 46 and 59–were sold to Crolius family members. Crolius was an unusual 19th century name in America: checking the American Civil War Research Database, which lists 4.2 million men who served in the Civil War from 1861 to 1865, 4 entries are for men named Crolius who served in the Union Army; the Confederate forces had no man named Crolius. But Green-Wood lists 68 people named Crolius in our interment database. In all, there were 15 Crolius potters, including 6 named William, five Johns, one George, and two Clarksons. Green-Wood has 6 Williams, 4 Johns, 7 Georges, and three Clarksons–the bulk of the Crolius potters.

The first Clarkson Crolius (1774-1843) was the grandson of William Crolius, the founder of the family business, and the son of John and Maria Clarkson Crolius. He was involved in politics, serving as an alderman in New York City’s Sixth Ward for many years, as an assemblyman, and in 1825 was elected Speaker of the New York State Assembly. By 1811, he had risen to be Grand Sachem of the Tammny Society; he laid the cornerstone for the Old Tammany Hall that was built on Frankfort Street. He was also active in the military; during the War of 1812, Clarkson served as major of the 29th New York State Militia, then entered U.S. service, and rose to colonel. This mix of politics and military service was no accident. There was a spike in new American potteries around 1805; these were early American manufacturers, started in an effort to establish economic independence from England. Federal legislation from 1806 to 1809, and the Embargo Act of 1807, prohibited trade with England, and English imports fell by two-thirds; American manufacturers, including potters, had little competition from imports, and thrived.

Clarkson was in the stoneware business by 1794; he later moved the family pottery business to Bayard Street, but continued to live on Reade Street, near where the pottery had been.

This painting of Clarkson Crolius, Sr., by Ezra Ames, is at the New-York Historical Society. An inscription on the back notes that it was painted in Albany in 1825, when Crolius was Speaker of the Assembly.
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The Crolius Pottery produced stoneware, typically light gray or tan, that was salt-glazed and often decorated with die-stamped and/or incised patterns colored with a cobalt blue glaze.

I have just purchased the Crolius piece below on behalf of The Green-Wood Historic Fund. It is in rough shape–shattered into pieces, it has been crudely glued back together. It also has a substantial chip along its rim, and the surface is rough at the outside bottom, likely from the extended storage of a liquid. But it is a rare piece: according to Donald Blake Webster, in his landmark “Decorated Stoneware Pottery of North America,” published in 1971, “marked pieces by Clarkson Crolius of New York City are among the rarest examples of stoneware . . . .” And, this piece’s design is really quite exceptional. First of all, not all of Crolius’s pieces were marked. Note the maker’s mark pressed into the front and highlighted with a cobalt blue slip:

The Green-Wood Historic Fund's recent purchase, a stoneware crock, marked with the stamp of Clarkson Crolius, Sr. It was produced some time between 1794 and 1815.
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And note the very nice die-stamped design below the maker’s mark–what looks like the center of a flower pressed into the soft clay before firing in a kiln.

Now take a look at the back of this crock:

The back, with quite a nice design.
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Note that the same decorative stamp that was used on the front, below the makers mark, has also been used here, to create the pistil of the flower, with flower petals then incised around it. And here is the same stamp in use again on another piece of stoneware:

This jar, decorated with four stamped rosettes, is unmarked, but was attributed to Clarkson Crolius by Donald Blake Webster in his seminal book, "Decorated Stoneware Pottery of North America." Webster comments, "The hand stamp itself was probably formed of clay rather than metal or wood. Such a rosette, though standing alone here, could easily have been used to form the center of a much larger incised flower." Indeed, the crock that Green-Wood just purchased shows both a decorative use of the stamp and its use as the center of a larger incised flower. Webster's surmise is confirmed.
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Clarkson Crolius’s son, the second Clarkson Crolius (1801-1887), went into business with his namesake, and continued the family’s pottery business until his retirement in 1870. The New-York Historical Society owns Clarkson Crolius, Jr.’s maker’s stamp and many of his tools. He also is interred at Green-Wood.

The stamp of Clarkson Crolius, Jr. He used it repeatedly to impress his mark into soft clay before it was fired. Note the incription here: "C. CROLIUS/MANUFACTURER/NEW-YORK." It is later than the inscription that appears on our recently-purchased piece, which includes "Manhattan Wells," an earlier place description.
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Start:

March 10, 2012 7:00 pm

Category:

Special Event

Venue:

The Historic Chapel at Green-Wood

Phone:

(718) 768-7300

Address:

500 25th Street, Brooklyn, NY, United States, 11232

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Start:

March 15, 2012 9:30 am

Category:

Special Event

Venue:

Green-Wood Cemetery

Phone:

718-210-3080

Address:

500 25th Street, Brooklyn, United States, 11232

We are all very excited!

Here’s the Weir Greenhouse, in an early 20th century post card:

The Weir Greenhouse, about a century ago, soon after it was built.
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And here’s what the exterior of the greenhouse looked like yesterday.

The Weir Greenhouse. A Green-Wood crew was in there on Friday, the first day it was in our possession, cleaning things up.
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This is the greenhouse’s spectacular central dome, looking up from the floor.

The central dome is supported by iron. The slats are wood.
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New York City’s Landmarks Commission’s Designation Report, written in 1980 by Andrew S. Dolkart (who is now the director of Columbia University’s Historic Preservation Program and its James Marston Fitch Associate Professor of Historic Preservation) describes the detailing of the Weir Greenhouse as “simple and straightforward.”

Here is the entrance way:

The exterior of the entrance way dome.
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UPDATE: I went back into the Weir Greenhouse today, Friday, February 10 (just one week after we took possession) to get some photographs of the great open space there. Here are two:

The interior of the greenhouse, looking across the open floor towards the main entrance at the corner of 25th Street and Fifth Avenue.
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Looking towards the secondary entrance along 25th Street. That's quite an expanse of glass, isn't it?
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The greenhouse has an very extensive system for nurturing plants: watering pipes close to the floor as well as windows that open in all sorts of sets and combinations to allow for careful adjustment of air flow and temperature.

Detail of the glass, iron, and wood system in the greenhouse.
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In 1895, James Weir, in business as a florist since 1850, with greenhouses in Bay Ridge, “well-managed nurseries” in New Utrecht, and a greenhouse across the street from the main entrance to Green-Wood Cemetery

This is the first of James Weir's greenhouses on the corner of 25th and 5th. It was torn down when the current greenhouse was built.
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, on the southwest corner of 25th Street and Fifth Avenue, hired architect C. Curtis Gillespie, who lived nearby, to design a new greenhouse for him. Gillespie created a wonder–a remarkable open space, of glass, wood, and iron, with a huge central dome.

This greenhouse project was the culmination of James Weir’s career. And there is no question that he wanted it to be something special–it was not only to be the pride of his substantial business, but also the pride of his neighborhood–he, his son, and his grandson (both of whom worked in the family business) lived just feet away, James at 236 25th Street, the other two just doors down the street at 228.

236 Twenty-fifth Street, the address (but not the building) where James Weir lived, is on the same side of 25th Street as the Weir Greenhouse, separated from it by Brooklyn Monument's yard and building. This brick building is now a part of the Brooklyn Bakery.
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This is 228 25th Street, the house in which James Weir's son and grandson, both of whom worked with him, lived. It stands today, as it has for over a century, on the south side of 25th Street, about midway between Fourth and Fifth Avenues.
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Not surprisingly, given the location of his greenhouse and his home just feet from the main Green-Wood entrance, and given that his business was very much tied to Green-Wood (a quick review of Weir-McGovern maps of Green-Wood, which were generously donated to Green-Wood by the McGovern family, indicates that those florists were taking care of up to 1000 lots at Green-Wood), James Weir in interred at Green-Wood. Here is his gravestone:

James Weir is interred on a high hill (above Green-Wood's Historic Chapel) from which his beloved greenhouse may be seen.
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He is up on the hill above Green-Wood’s Historic Chapel. There’s quite a view from up on that hill–on a clear day you can see all the way to the Bayonne Bridge. And, from James Weir’s grave, you can see the dome of his greenhouse!

In 1971, the Weir family sold the greenhouse to the McGoverns, who kept the floral business going until recently.

However, unfortunately, little if anything seems to have been done, in the last 30 years, to maintain the greenhouse. Lack of maintenance is not good for any historic landmark. But it is particularly problematic for a building that is primarily made up of glass and wood; as is noted in the Designation Report, “[g]reenhouses are among the most fragile of building types and without constant maintenance they will quickly decay.” And that, unfortunately, has been the case with the Weir Greenhouse–it has decayed. First of all, several of the low brick walls that support the entire structure have fallen apart.

Collapsed bricks.
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There is also much broken glass and rotting wood.

Examples of broken glass. Nearby, an entire section of glass panes was, at some point, replaced by plexiglass.
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This tarp is covering a section where all the glass is gone.
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While the current condition of the Weir Greenhouse will make its restoration a daunting task, that restoration will proceed. Under the leadership of Green-Wood’s president, Richard Moylan, the cemetery is committed to returning this landmark to its full glory. Structural consultants will be in tomorrow to begin their study of what has to be done. The work will then proceed apace, returning this great structure to its rightful place as a great asset to Green-Wood and the neighborhood.

On another note, we did get some very interesting and historical souvenirs as part of our purchase:

Weir and FTD printing blocks.
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This printing block has the same pattern as that on the letterhead.
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New York City’s Landmarks Commission, in designating the Weir Greenhouse a New York City landmark, wrote of its importance:

. . . the Weir Greenhouse, an extremely rare survivor from the nineteenth century, is the only known Victorian commercial greenhouse in New York City; that the form and massing of the greenhouse are bold and impressive, while the detailing is simple and straightforward; that is was built for the Weir family business which had a long tradition of horticultural activities in Brooklyn, that its presence and survival are integrally linked to the adjacent Greenwood Cemetery . . . .

Now it will be that much more closely linked to Green-Wood.

Congratulations to Green-Wood’s president, Richard Moylan, whose vision led to this purchase, and to Green-Wood’s board, which enthusiastically has supported this venture. Now it is time to fix the Weir Greenhouse up, to return it to the glorious space that it once was. And to create a place where future generations of visitors can catch their breath, orient themselves, learn about Green-Wood, then cross Fifth Avenue to discover one of the great historic places, and landscapes, in America.

Please click here if you would like to donate to this effort.

If you would like to read the entire Landmarks Preservation Commission’s Designation Report for the historic Weir Greenhouse, you may find it here.

But, I must admit, I was very excited. I knew that Eberhard Faber is interred at Green-Wood Cemetery. That was enough for me to immediately fall in love with the E.F.P.C.H.D. (for short, of course). It is roughly bounded by West, Franklin, and Kent Streets, and Greenpoint Avenue.

Here, from the New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission’s Designation Report of 2007, is a description of the Eberhard Faber business:

The Eberhard Faber Pencil Company, originally the A. W. Faber Company, was founded by Eberhard Faber (1822-1879) in 1861. Following a disastrous fire at the Manhattan plant in 1872, Faber moved the factory to Brooklyn, where it remained until 1956. The company is credited with bringing German lead pencil- making techniques to the United States and Faber grew to become one of Brooklyn’s most important factories, employing hundreds of workers, most of which were women. In addition to mass-producing low-cost pencils, the Brooklyn plant made pen holders and related stationary items.

And, the report continues:

The final building in the district was constructed in 1923-24. It is the complex’s signature building and the largest structure in the historic district. Six stories tall, the upper floor is embellished with stars and pencils, gigantic glazed terra cotta reliefs that proudly advertised the company’s main product to pedestrians and passengers using the nearby ferry. Not only did the company become a significant presence in Greenpoint, occupying two square blocks, Eberhard Faber would also turn into a nationally recognized brand name. Furthermore, in an early example of corporate branding, many of the Eberhard Faber buildings prominently display a star-and-diamond motif on their pedimented parapets in order to establish visual continuity across blocks.

Now, I must admit, though I did notice the star on many of the buildings, and guessed that that was an indication that that building had once been a part of the Faber Company, I wasn’t quite sure that I was looking at a Faber building until I took a close look at the top of this one:

Eberhard Faber Pencil Company's grandest (and last constructed) building, dating from 1923-24.
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And here’s a closer look at the facade:

The telltale pencils and the Eberhard Faber trademark star.
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No mistaking that–a big pencil, symbol of the Eberhard Faber Pencil Company. Sadly, Eberhard Faber’s dark gray granite monument at Green-Wood has neither a star,  a pencil, nor any reference to his business on it–it is a rather routine piece.

I have read that Eberhard Faber’s greatest contribution to civilization was putting the eraser on the pencil. Corporate recognition of the fallibility of humankind . . .

President Abraham Lincoln personally approved the plans for the Monitor, saying,”All I have to say is what the girl said when she stuck her foot in the stocking: ‘It strikes me there’s something in it.’” It was a race against time–and against the Virginia–a wooden-hulled Union ship known as the Merrimac that had been captured by Confederate forces at the Gosport Navy Yard in Portsmouth, Virginia, then fitted with iron plates, and had been rechristened the CSS Virginia.

As the Monitor was launched into the East River on January 30, many were convinced that no iron ship would stay afloat–and fully expected instantaneous disaster. But, with inventor John Ericcson on its deck for the launch, showing his confidence in his creation, it did indeed stay afloat. In the following weeks, it was outfitted and armed, tested in the East River, then sent south to war on March 6. After encountering a storm, and almost sinking, it made it to Hampton Roads in a nick of time. On March 8, the Virginia had attacked the largest wooden-hulled warships of the Union fleet, sinking two and grounding one. When the little Monitor steamed onto the scene, few thought that it might make any difference. But it moved beside the massive but grounded USS Minnesota to protect her. And, when the Virginia came back out on the morning of March 9 to finish off the Minnesota, imagine its surprise on encountering the “cheesbox on a raft,” the Monitor. For about three hours the Monitor and the Merrimac exchanged shots. When, after absorbing a pounding, the Virginia limped off, the Monitor’s triumph was complete. A new era of naval warfare had dawned. Massive wooden-hulled ships were obsolete; iron ships were ascendant.

So, yesterday, the Greenpoint Monitor Museum (the yet-to-be-realized dream of George Weinman and Janice Lauletta-Weinman) and the Sons of Union Veterans of the Civil War, sponsored a Monitor tour. The tour started at the Monitor Monument (erected in 1938) in Msgr. McGolrick Park, Greenpoint.

The Monitor Monument, by sculptor Antonio DeFilippo.
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It then continued at the launch spot (and, hopefully, the future location of the Monitor Museum), then on to the great new museum at the Brooklyn Navy Yard, Building 92.

Building 92, the new museum at the Brooklyn Navy Yard.
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The model of the Monitor in Building 92.
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The Monitor model also shows a cutaway of the below-deck officers' quarters.
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It was at the Brooklyn Navy Yard that the Monitor was outfitted, armed, and commissioned in the weeks following its launching.

Then, after a stop at Grand Army Plaza, and a good look at the arch

The Grand Army Plaza arch.
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and sculpture there (including the equestrian sculpture of Major General Henry Warner Slocum, who is, of course, interred at Green-Wood), it was off to Green-Wood for a Monitor tour.

We stopped in Green-Wood at the lot of John Roach (1815-1887), who came to America as a penniless Irish immigrant and who benefited from the Monitor’s legacy by becoming the king of the iron-hulled ship industry in America. We then went to the graves of several men who served on the Monitor: Captain’s Clerk Daniel Toffey (1837-1893),

Captain's Clerk Daniel Toffey was the nephew of the commander of the Monitor, Lieutenant John Worden. When the communications system between Worden, who was in the front of the Monitor in the pilot house, and the turret, where the guns were being fired, broke down, Toffey ran between the two, as the battle raged, delivering orders and updates. Courtesy of William Finlayson.
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Bill Finlayson, president of the New York City Civil War Roundtable and the great great grandson of Daniel Toffey, paid tribute to his ancestor at graveside. Bill, after talking about Toffey, read excerpts from Toffey's letter home, written just days after the Monitor's battle with the Merrimac, in which he described the action.
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The Green-Wood Historic Fund placed this wreath at Daniel Toffey's grave.
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Chief Engineer Isaac Newton (1837-1884), Acting Master Louis Napoleon Stodder (1837-1911), and First Class Fireman Edmund Brown (1813-1892). Brown suffered from “exposure” after the battle, was hospitalized, and was discharged months later because he was “unfit for military service.”

Isaac Newton, Chief Engineer of the Monitor, who performed gallantly on the voyage down to Virginia and then in the battle with the CSS Virginia. Newton, later in the Civil War, served as the superintendent of construction of ironclads in New York City. He also wrote extensively during the Civil War, defending Ericcson's technology. Tragically, Newton fell into ill health in 1884, and committed suicide by slashing his throat.
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Louis Napoleon Stodder (1837-1911), acting master of the Monitor, received a concussion, and was unconscious for about an hour, after a Merrimac shell struck the Monitor turret while he was touching the inside of the turret.
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Click here for more about Stodder and his two presentation swords, one by Tiffany and the other by Ames, that were given to him by admiring citizens. Those swords were sold a few years ago.

We also visited the graves of two civilians who worked on the Monitor: Brooklyn Navy Yard master machinist Edward Faron and engineer/draftsman Edward L. Crabb. We then paid our respects to Gilbert Elliott (1843-1895), the 19-year-old who built the ironclad CSS Albermarle in a North Carolina cornfield with tools he borrowed from local farmers. And we visited the lot where three Confederates from the Read family are interred, including William Watkins Read ((1844-1910), who, according to his obituary in The New York Times, was on the Virginia during its fateful slugfest with the Monitor.

150 years later, it was a day to remember.

Morse was the leading portrait painter of his time; he was chosen in 1826 to be the founding president of the National Academy of Design because of the respect he had from his fellow artists. Painter Thomas Cole, the leader of the Hudson River School, described Morse as the “keystone of the arch” of American painters.

"The Muse-Susan Walker Morse," hangs in the American Wing of The Metropolitan Museum. Morse painted this portrait of his daughter 1836-37; the New York Mirror wrote that it was "the most perfect full-length portrait that we remember to have seen from an American artist."
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Morse also was a pioneering photographer–France’s Louis Daguerre taught Morse his new invention, photography, and Morse sent the first word of Daguerre’s historic breakthrough back to America, then pioneered American photography after he returned to New York City.

Samuel Morse, photographer, with an early camera.
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But Morse is best-remembered for his revolutionary invention of the telegraph and Morse Code; for the first time in human history (short of smoke signals and flag wags), messages might travel faster than a human being could carry them. You think the Internet changed the world? Consider the telegraph . . .

Morse was an international superstar. Here, some of the medals he received from nations throughout the world for his invention of the telegraph adorn his chest.
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Morse has been ensconced at Green-Wood, on a hillock built up in his honor, since his death in 1872.

The Morse Monument is three-sided--one side for each of the Morse brothers. Note the bronze plaque mounted on it--and follow the story below.
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Samuel Finley Breese Morse's headstone.
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Almost a century after his death, in 1968, a bronze plaque, honoring his telegraphic accomplishments, was placed on the Morse Monument. Years later, it was stolen, and a second cast was made and mounted.

The replacement plaque that is attached to the Morse Monument. Photograph courtesy of Ken Taylor.
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But, it turns out, the original has now turned up in good hands. Just last week I received this e-mail:

I am writing to inform you that the Morse Telegraph Club has recovered a bronze plaque, which was placed on the Morse monument in 1968 by our organization. Apparently, this plaque was stolen from Greenwood Cemetery at some point in the past and ultimately ended up in the hands of a collector in Phoenix, Arizona. Upon his passing, his family listed the plaque for auction on E-bay. When this was brought to our attention, we negotiated with the family for its return to MTC for subsequent disposition.

While we are aware that the stolen plaque has since been replaced with an identical marker, we nonetheless wanted to make you aware of the fact that the original is now in our possession. If Greenwood Cemetery would like the original marker returned, we would, of course, be happy to do so. If this is unnecessary, the plaque will be stored and eventually exhibited in a museum of telegraphy, which we are planning to establish in the near future.

Please advise us of your wishes. . . .

Best Regards,

James Wades

International President,

Morse Telegraph Club, Inc.

Yes, we did want it back. So the original bronze plaque is in transit, coming back to Green-Wood, where we will cherish it. Thanks, James Wades, and the Morse Telegraph Club, Inc., for your good deed!

It was a very nice dusting–not a lot of snow, but enough to create some wonderful scenes. Enjoy!

De Witt Clinton, looking a bit cold.
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A small angel, carved in a fine slate by Karin Sprague just a few years ago.
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The Beard Bear is a treat in all seasons and all lighting conditions. Here he (or is it she?) looks particularly pensive.
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Green-Wood's Historic Chapel. I particularly like the snow on the sculpted evergreen in the right foreground.
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De Witt Clinton, full length. Hope his books didn't get soggy . . .
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New York City's Civil War Soldiers' Monument on Battle Hill.
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The Infantryman on guard, unflinching.
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Up the stairs to the Civil War Soldiers' Monument, with flags and grasses adding color.
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One of the gargoyles on The Soda Fountain King's monument. I got lucky here; a wind came up and took the snow that was sitting on the top of the gargoyle off to the right, just as I was shooting, to give this image some movement.
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Frank Morgan (1890-1949) is best-remembered today for his performance in the classic movie, “The Wizard of Oz.” Morgan, of course, was the Wizard, and played five other roles in the movie. His grave is always the last stop on my Halloween tours of Green-Wood–we approach his grave to the tune, “We’re Off To See The Wizard.”

Morgan had quite a Hollywood career. Here he is in a publicity shot for “The Crowd Roars,” a 1938 Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer release, just one year before “The Wizard of Oz” was made. “The Crowd Roars” had quite a cast: Robert Taylor, Eddie Arnold, Maureen O’Sullivan, and even Jane Wyman (the future Mrs. Ronald Reagan).

Here is Frank Morgan, in a publicity photograph for “The Crowd Roars,” holding his head with one hand and milk bottles in the other:

Frank Morgan, in a publicity photograph for "The Crowd Roars," 1938.
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I like the punchline of the caption that appears on the back of the photograph:

The caption that got me laughing, on the back of the photograph.
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Another little gem for our Green-Wood Historic Fund Collections.

And, as a bonus, here’s a short video about the casting of Morgan as The Wizard. And here’s a video of Morgan performing three of his roles in “The Wizard of Oz:” as the Gatekeeper, the Carriage Driver, and the Doorman.

Dorothy Koppelman and Green-Wood President Richard Moylan, holding the donated artist's print of "On Meeting Beauty II."
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Chaim Koppelman was born in Brooklyn in 1920.

Artist Chaim Koppelman.
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He studied art in WPA classes, married painter Dorothy Myers in 1943, then took part in the World War II Normandy invasion and earned a bronze star. Returning home, he studied art under the GI Bill. In 1955, Dorothy and Chaim opened the Terrain Gallery–she was the director, he the print curator. They were students of Eli Siegel’s Aesthetic Realism (Siegel is also interred at Green-Wood), and that greatly influenced their art and exhibitions. He taught for many years and served as president of the American Society of Graphic Artists, receiving a lifetime achievement award from that organization in 2004. He died in 2009 and was cremated.

When his widow, in making arrangements for the interment of his ashes at Green-Wood, learned that Green-Wood has been collecting the art of its permanent residents, she offered to donate one of Chaim’s works.

So, this past week, a group gathered at Green-Wood to pay their respects to Chaim Koppelman as his remains were interred.

Those who gathered at Green-Wood to pay their respects to Chaim Koppelman and his art.
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Thanks to Dorothy Koppelman for her generous donation!

If you would like to learn more about Chaim Koppelman, you can find the website devoted to his life and his art here.