History of Philadelphia, 1609-1884, Part 20

Author: Scharf, J. Thomas (John Thomas), 1843-1898. cn; Westcott, Thompson, 1820-1888, joint author
Publication date: 1884
Publisher: Philadelphia, Pa. : L. H. Everts & Co.
Number of Pages: 992

USA > Pennsylvania > Philadelphia County > Philadelphia > History of Philadelphia, 1609-1884 > Part 20

Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).

Crossing the path of these humble bread-winners,

930

HISTORY OF PHILADELPHIA.

and avoiding all contact with charcoal or brick-dust, the trim baker, his head and coat-collar as well pow- dered with flour as those of a fashionable gentleman, sped on silently, carrying his covered basket of fresh loaves, or, if his business was extensive, pushing his hand-cart from door to door. The baker was a very important man, for housekeepers did not have such kitchen ranges as they have now, and, especially in the summer, they relied on the baker's hot ovens for the baking of their pies and cake and the roasting of their meats and fowls. The charge was so much per dish, and in thickly settled neighborhoods the baker did a good business. The aristocratic milkman rat- tled past in his light wagon, his bright cedar churns with hoops of shining brass standing by his side. Having dispensed the required quantum of fresh country milk and cream to his customers in time for breakfast, he would drive leisurely home, or perhaps stop at the tavern and refresh himself after his early drive of several miles. There were also milk-stands in the neighborhood of the markets, where people went for their supply of milk, and where, in the sum- mer time, housekeepers going to market could pur- chase that refreshing preparation, curds-and-whey. After a time ice-cream and lemonade made a formid- able competition to the curds. A Frenchman named Roux was the first to sell them in the market.

The muffin-man came at a much later period. He followed his trade in the latter part of the day or in the dusk of the evening. The tinkle of his little bell was a familiar sound at which the expectant housekeeper gave the signal for supper to he put on the table, for now she was sure of a dish of delicious hot muffins. In 1813, P. Metham had his Yorkshire muffin bakery at No. 9 Knight's Court, Cherry Street, near Ninth. He had perfected the arrangement of the long basket in which he carried his muffins, so that they were kept warm to the last. He was very extensively patronized.

"Soap-fat and hickory ashes" was a cry often heard in the alleys upon which the yard-gates and kitchen doors opened. The 'ash man,' who drove an important business when wood was generally hurned, thus announced his coming to the servant-girls, who kept for him the ashes and fats from the kitchen, their usual perquisites. They received in exchange a piece or a bar of hard, yellow soup, for no money ever changed hands in these transactions. Some families saved their fats and ashes and manufactured their own soap, an easy operation, made still casier nowadays by the use of concentrated lyes.

Hominy, made from broken maize, the kernel being hulled, was an Indian food which was taken to the tables of the blacks. White people learned to like this healthy preparation. There were tables at the ends of the markets, where it was sold by colored people, the grain being put up in bags, ready for transfer to the market-basket. About 1828 the orig- inal hominy man made his appearance. He was

middle-aged, stout, had a broad face and short gray side-whiskers. He carried a large basket, which was stocked with parcels of prepared hominy. His care was to make a business for himself, and he traversed all parts of the town, seeking customers and an- nouncing his presence. He bad a clear, strong, res- onant voice,-tenore robusto they would call it on the operatic stage,-and his refrain could be heard at a great distance, --

" Hominy man come out to-day For to sell his hominay."

This he would vary by an occasional notice,-

" Hominy man is on his way For to sell his good hou.inay."

WIS

OLD HOMINY MAN.

This person became quite a town character, and was known to everybody. The original "hominy man" long since left these peaceful scenes for another world. He was succeeded by one upon whom his mantle had fallen. The man who in 1883 solicits custom in the old way is the third or fourth in succession from the original hominy man.

The unwary stranger might be startled by the sud- den shooting down of a cord of wood from the cart upon the cobble-stones, and the cry of "Way, piler !" with which the wood-sawyer would interrupt the rasping sound of his hand-saw, to warn his comrade in the cellar that another armful of sawed sticks was ready. Or he would look wonderingly at the brawny fellow walking past, with a huge axe over his shoul-

931

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS, 1700-1800.

der, from which implement hung two iron wedges, which jingled together and made a ringing noise at every motion. But the fellow bellowed, with sten- torian lungs, "Spli-t wood!" and thereby revealed his professional character. The wood-sawyer divided the logs and long sticks into short billets, but it was the wood-splitter's business to split a portion of these for kindling-wood, unless some male member of the family had industry enough to do it. What changes modern progress has brought! Everything is done now by machinery. There is saving of money and increased comfort to the consumer, but how many humble trades by which the poor made an honest living have been destroyed! But the voice of the wood-splitter is drowned by the more powerful roar of the driver of the oyster-cart, "Ah yer oys-ta-oh ! yer the go! oys-ta-oh !" Besides this perambulating oyster-man, there were stands and tables at the cor- ners of the markets and other well-thronged places for the sale of stewed oysters. The oyster-cellar is of more modern discovery.

In the spring of the year the shrill voice of the fe- male fish-huckster might be heard announcing the advent of the shad, dear to gourmands, "You buy an-ey sha-a-d?" Later in the year her cry changed to, " You buy any pe-e-rch ?" " Buy any blackfish ?" or "You buy any ca-a-t-fish ?" But, if the season was dull, the same voice might be recognized, crying, " You buy any cherries ?" or "You buy any straw- ber-ees ?" and, still later in the season, "Buy any peaches ?" to the legitimate fruit-huckster's disgust. Watermelons, cantaloups, apples, and peaches were generally sold on the streets by men, who, as they drove their well-filled carts around, thought it their duty to call the attention of buyers by terrific yells that would make a nervous man take to his heels: " Here's your ripe, freestone peaches ! Here they go, three fips a half-peck, oh !" or "Sweet, mellow apples at a levy a half-peck, oh !"

Fleeing this pandemonium of sounds, avoiding the old cake-woman at the corner only to run into the scissors-grinder and his grinding-machine, whose whirling sound, as he busily works the treadle with his foot, is lost in the prevailing din, the bewil- dered stranger turns, perhaps, towards the wharves where numerous vessels are loading and unloading, for the commerce of the port of Philadelphia at that time was greater than that of New York. "In 1800 there were forty ships engaged in the East India and China trade, over one hundred ships which made voyages regularly between Philadelphia and various European ports, and twenty-five ships in the West India trade. There were brigs and smaller vessels also engaged in this traffic, so that the foreign com- merce may be assumed to have given employment to at least two hundred large vessels. The coasting trade was also valuable."1 As the stranger ap-

proaches the river, a strange chorus greets his ear :

"Ro! ro! rol ro! around the corner, Sally !" chant the voices; and another chorus strikes ont with admirable effect,-

" Nancy Bohannan, she married a barber ; Shave her away ! shave her away !

He shaved all he could, he could not shave harder ; Shave her away ! shave her away !"

The singers are the black stevedores, who thus lighten and facilitate the work of loading the vessels, their joint efforts being guided by the rhythmic ar- rangement of the song. The loiterer pauses and listens with delighted interest. His curiosity is ex- cited ; he would like to know who was " Nancy Bo- hannan," and why they must "shave her away," but he dares not interrupt the men's work by asking them questions. He strolls along the noble river, and finally turns back into the city, his curiosity aroused by the discordant sounds of musical instruments playing different tunes. A crowd of children and colored people, or, rather, two crowds, surround two rival organ-grinders stationed at opposite angles of the street-corner. One has a monkey dressed in a red coat and cocked hat. The boys predominate in his public, by no means a silent one, for each caper of poor Jack leads to loud and delighted comments. The other has no monkey, but he has pushed a slide from the front of his instrument, and lo ! here is a diminutive ball-room, with minute ladies and gentle- men whirling around in all the glory of velvet, satin, and tinsel. The little girls press close in front of this organ, and gaze in silent wonder on the little an- tomaton figures. The rival organ-grinders are Ital- ians ; their scowling looks reveal their fierce passions ; the musical struggle may end in a row ; but, no; both ahandon the field discomfited as the juvenile audi- ence rush from them to a still greater attraction than dancing monkeys and revolving puppets. The or- chestra-man is coming ! He comes, a whole orchestra in himself, as his lips run over reeds of the Pandean pipes he has thrust in his vest bosom ; the motions of his head set the Chinese bells a-ringing which are affixed to his crown in lieu of a hat; the cymbals attached to his elbows clash in time ; his hands wield the drumsticks with lightning rapidity, and yet find time to strike the triangle hanging over the drum in front of him. He marches on proudly, although not an elegant figure, followed by the crowd and by the envious gaze of an Irish piper, who has stopped, his bag under his arm, seeing the futility of competing with such a rival.

The children follow, oblivious of home and of 'time and distance, and by and by there will be anxious faces looking down the street, mothers will run dis- tractedly to and fro, and finally another Philadelphia institution, the town-crier and bell-man, will have to be brought npon the stage. He moves on with solemn step, ringing his bell vigorously, stops at a corner,

1 Westcott's History of Philadelphia.

932

HISTORY OF PHILADELPHIA.

where the people crowd round him to listen to bis proclamation, and in a loud voice he describes the lost child. Ile recites the name, age, general appear- ance, and style of dress of the missing one, together with the name and residence of the parents. His voice is doleful in its tone,-it may be sympathy for the sorrowing mother, yet in the same tone did he not announce the loss of Dick Brown's horse and Widow Flanagan's cow ? Withal, he was a useful, kind old body, this same bell-man. He has disap- peared with his crony, the old city watchman, who used to walk so cautiously along the dimly-lighted streets, carrying his flambeau and his rattle. Poor old Charley, as the boys used to call him, who nearly teased the life out of him. He was lamp-lighter as well as watchman, walked his beat at regular inter- vals, and called out the hour, the state of the weather, and any startling event, such as a fire or a riot. The fact is on record that the old watchman did once startle the whole community from their slumbers, and brought them out, delirious with joy, in the streets. It was the night he cried, "O-h ! p-a-s-t three o'clock, and Cornwallis is taken !" His piping voice rang like a clarion on that occasion.

The old watchman gone, his "box" ceased to or- nament the street corner. Those watch-boxes were queer little shelter-places, where the guardians of the night could rest their wearied limbs in the intervals between their rounds and find protection from the pelting storm. They were square or hexagonal in shape, with a diameter of about four feet, and a height of seven or eight feet. The roof, running to a point, was surmounted by a lamp or lantern. A bench for the watchman to sit on, a few hooks on which to hang his overcoat and his citizen's clothes, a shelf in a corner where to stow away his oil-can and torch, used in lighting the street lamps, com- posed all the furniture of the watch-box. The lamp- lighter's torch, constructed of iron or tin, had a reser- voir or fountain for the oil at the base, and a large wick, well fed with oil, so as to resist the wind. Having lighted this the watchman would start on his lamp-lighting errand ; but sometimes it happened that a sudden gust of wind would put out his smoky torch. Then he was indeed in a quandary, for he must find some sheltered place where he could strike a light with his tinder box and brinistone matches and ignite the blackened wick. With all these difficul- ties in his way his work, however, was well and faithfully done. In time the watch-box was made of circular form, and its dimensions enlarged. A diminutive stove then added to the comforts of the watchman, but invited sleep in forbidden hours. Woe to the poor "Charley" if he was discovered asleep by the dissipated young fellows roving about the streets at late hours! They would fasten the door from the outside, and call ont " Watch ! watch !" in tones of great distress, while the imprisoned officer made vain efforts to get out. The watch-boxes were

made of wood, light, and, simply resting on the pave- ment, were easily moved. The wicked fellows would sometimes pass a stout rope round the frail structure and drag it to another spot, or suddenly turn it over, to the great terror and, perhaps, bodily harm of the drowsy occupant.

Among the peculiar noises heard in the neighbor- hood of the markets, one that always attracted a crowd was the flourish of trumpet announcing the proximity of show-beef. In the early part of the century it was the practice to drive cattle particularly fat to the slaughter-house through the streets of the city decorated with flowers and garlands, and with gay ribbons tied to their horns, in order to attract to the sale of the meat, which was to take place on the succeeding day. In Birch's view of the new market is a representation of one of these little processions, which is accompanied by a fiddler who seems to be playing right merrily. The sound of the trumpet became so closely associated with show-cattle in the minds of the people, that long afterward, at the con- cert or oratorio, a trumpet solo always provoked mer- riment in the audience and the suppressed exclama- tion, "Show beef."

A sight of no little interest and wonder to the stranger in Philadelphia, in the early part of the century, was the North American Indian, no longer in all the glory of war-paint, scalping-knife, and feathers, yet retaining enough of the characteristics of the noble sons of the forest to be an object of study for the European traveler. These Indian visitors were mostly descendants of the Lenni Lenape; they came in small parties with their squaws and papooses. The costume of the men presented a curious combina- tion of the garments of the civilized world with those fashions dear to the savage. From the former they borrowed the fur hat, and the rough coat or overcoat as a good substitute for the blanket, but they disdained trowsers and shoes; their feet were protected by the convenient moccasin. There was one artifice of the toilet which these untutored sons of nature rarely neglected, however : they painted, not in imitation of our fair belles, with rouge and pearl-white, but with coarse ochres which gave a hideous expression to their faces. Neither did they fail to wear the large ear-rings of copper or silver in true Indian style. Their great object did not seem to be so much a desire to study the manners and customs of the whites, as to " turn up a penny" whenever they saw a chance. Their faithful bows and arrows, which they always carried, proved to be excellent implements of trade ; they displayed their skill by shooting for pennies, "fips," " levvies," and " quarters," at the choice of the spectators. The piece being put up at some convenient place-a crack in the wall or post, a projecting stone, or even simply dropped upon the pavement at a suitable distance- sometimes as much as fifty yards, the "brave" would be invited to shoot. He seldom missed the mark ; having struck the piece, he pocketed it without the

933

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS, 1700-1800.

least signs of emotion, except perhaps a subdued grunt, and went on his way, unless invited to try his luek on another piece, which happened not unfre- quently, for people never tired admiring his extra- ordinary skill with this primitive weapon.

The women's appearance was not so interesting as that of the men ; their common calico dresses and dirty blankets did not enhance their charms. They went bare-headed and bare-footed, and, veritable beasts of burden, besides the papoose safely fixed on their backs, they carried bundles of moccasins and pouches decorated with bead-work and bark baskets, cunningly worked and painted. These they offered for sale at Nor was there anything laughable in the madness of Honorah Power, commonly known as "Crazy Norah." What was her history ? The child of a well-to-do Irish farmer, she was left at his death with a modest but sufficient provision. She lived with a married sister, and put her money in the hands of her brother-in-law ; he squandered it as well as his wife's portion. Norah came to America and hired herself out in Philadelphia as a servant. She was modest, well-behaved, and a pious Roman Catholic. She at- tended St. Mary's Church regularly. During the Hogan riot the church was desecrated. The effect of this painful scene on the girl's mind was disastrous; she became insane. After a time, her excitement being allayed, she recovered in part her reason, and was able to earn her bread by doing errands, collecting bad debts, etc. But she was too mad to fill any place re- quiring her constant attention. She walked a great dleal, and had a pleasant word for every one she met. the street corners, while their noble lords shot their arrows or idled about the streets. The dark-skinned papooses, with their bead-like eyes and stolid little countenances,-for it is seldom one bears an Indian child cry,-were objeets of general interest. These Indian women did not seem unhappy, but apathetic. The woman's rights question had never been discussed among them; it had not been agitated among the whites then, and if it had it would have made no dif- ference with these dusky representatives of female loveliness. The Indians' code of gallantry authorized the men to respect their own dignity and leave all the hard work to their wives; they accepted it without murmur. Civilized white husbands have been known to entertain these Indian notions, as many a hard- worked wife may testify. Occasionally there were exhibitions by the Indians of the semi-theatrical dis- play of their war dances and other customs. These were held at publie gardens in summer and at taverns | She was fond of children, though the boys tormented in winter. In 1825, Warwick, who kept a tavern at Seventh and South Streets, and who had a large ex-

hibition-room in the second story, used for meetings, ; Prayer and the Catholic Creed, and then reward them free-and-easys, etc., had a party of six Western sons of the forest, who went through performances illus- trating their modes of life, for the edification of pale- faced visitors, who paid their price for admission. But these hired performers were far less interesting than the free visitors who used to shoot for pen- nies.

Every city has its harmless lunatic, enjoying the freedom of the streets and contributing to the amuse- ment of the thoughtless. The madman is sacred in the eyes of the Mussulman and of most of the savage tribes : it is only the civilized Christian who laughs at his incoherent discourse or meaningless actions. Then there is the oddity, the eccentric individual, who will not do as others do. Philadelphia has had ber crazy street characters, her oddities and eccentricities. She probably has them now, in greater number than ever, but what with the immense population of the city, and the busy, hurried ways of the age, they pass unnoticed, except by a few, until some foolish act of theirs brings them before a court or in the newspaper reports. Their modern name is the "crank," and they are not half so interesting a study as were their predecessors.

The spectre-looking elderly spinster, Leah, men- tioned hy Watson, who remembered having seen her, could not have excited merriment, for her oddities were of a ghostly turn. One of her favorite occupations was passing the night in the Potter's Field, where, wrapped in a long blanket, she stalked among the graves for theavowed purpose of " frightening away the doctors." Leah was a member of the society of Friends, and a very simple, kind-hearted creature. There must have been some incident in her life connected with resur- rectionists, since her great anxiety was to protect the graves from desecration.

ber sometimes; "she would take them by the hand," says Mr. Watson, "induce them to say the Lord's with some trifle from the large bag she invariably ear- ried, such as a button, a piece of colored china, old ribbon, or some similar thing of little or no value." She is described as a tall woman "with sharp, firm features, a clear black eye, and iron-gray hair, and whose quick step, together with her peculiar dress, gave her a masculine appearance."

"Lang Syne," of Germantown ( Benjamin J. Lee- dom) says,-

"Sometimes, while sitting in silence in Pine Street Meeting, I have seen the door open and Notah would stalk in, amt, advancing up the middle aisle, would stop, and standing erect as a statue, weil make the sign of the cross atul commence counting her beads As she was wil known by all the meeting, no one interfered with her, and sh. was 10.t- mitted to pursue her way unmolested After having pour thing with her i lizious priformances she would either stalk ont o labr asaton the men's sale and remain wusst the meeting closed, menstedy Really greeting het as they left .... Tel and she de in person, weil fiante, her head surmounted by a man's hat, Inch in n' boots teleheinz to her knees, with a leather girdle around her waist, arda lang bank tess suspended from her neck ; she would Is quently stop me in the street and mike the sign of the cross on my torelead "

But who could have helped from smiling on meet- ing Michael Weaders, or rather " Me Mo Michael llans Muckle Weaders," as he styled himself? " Lang Syne" describes this fantastic being, who

934

HISTORY OF PHILADELPHIA.

was a servant in the Pancoast family. When he was sent on an errand-

" he could scarcely proceed a square in an hour, being continually sur- rounded by all sorts of people, some viewing Tim and listening to him, and some asking him over agat i the same question which he had been asked a thousand times. Whether the question repeated came from the child or the man, he was sure to answer them every one with an un- broken smile extending from cheek to cheek sans teeth), with unweatied patience, idiotic su1'i ny, and an affectionate tone of voice. To aston- Ish them he sometimes changed his usnal amable appratance and ex. pression of courirbaner to a hideous squint, his two eyes gazing at each other, and his long tongue ) issing ! ke a serpent from between his boue- less guins, cising the juvenile spectator to shrink away from the hor- nid sight, which was but fi n moment. Then, festning his usual benevolent, smiling look, he would say, ' That's the way to frighton the Indians, so it is!' He claimed as sweethearts all the fashional le unmar- ried belles in the city. He had 'fifty hundred, twenty hundred and sixteen' of them, and when any one of them married he was sure to go the next day after the wedding to claim bis forfeit,-always cheerfully given to him, which was a half-crown and a glass of punch from the lady's own hands, 'which,' said he, 'was all the same as though I married her myself.""

Michael Weaders died Feb. 23, 1808, aged eighty- three years. The United States Gazette records this obituary notice :

" He was a native of Germany, and a steady inhabitant of, or near, this city for upward of seventy years. It may be tinly said that he lived a harinless and an inoffensive life. He had not the strongest mental capacity, and although he experienced more of the sunles and atten- tions of the fair sex than usually fall to the share of an individual, he preferred a life of celibacy as most conducive with his happiness. He was a zealous patriot at the commencement of our Revolution, but be- ing terrified at the approach of the British army, ho receded from Ins patriotism and made his peace with Gen. Howe; and on being asked what induced him to relinquish his former principles, he answered, 'It is best to be friendly.' Honest Michael was well known to many of the inhalatants of Philadelphia ; though they will no more hear bim utter his friendly salutation, 'I ser thee first!' he will still retain a place in their remembrance."

Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.

History of Philadelphia, 1609-1884, Part 20

Author: Scharf, J. Thomas (John Thomas), 1843-1898. cn; Westcott, Thompson, 1820-1888, joint author Publication date: 1884 Publisher: Philadelphia, Pa. : L. H. Everts & Co. Number of Pages: 992

Author: Scharf, J. Thomas (John Thomas), 1843-1898. cn; Westcott, Thompson, 1820-1888, joint author
Publication date: 1884
Publisher: Philadelphia, Pa. : L. H. Everts & Co.
Number of Pages: 992