Origins of the Wallboard in Veblen House

We've been very fortunate to find labels on the various materials that went into the construction of the Veblen House. The housewrap was called Sisalkraft. The wood sheathing appears to have been shipped by the Weyerhauser company from the west coast. The insulation--all one or two inches of it--was a Weyerhauser product out of Minnesota called Balsam Wool. 

Though the kitchen and bathrooms in Veblen House are coated with traditional plaster, the walls in other rooms were made of wallboard containing wood fibers pressed tightly together. Until now, the origin of the wallboard has been a mystery. Various kinds of wallboard offered a cheaper, lighter alternative to plaster for indoor walls and ceilings. Most homes now use drywall, also known as plasterboard or sheetrock, made with a combination of paperboard and fireproof gypsum. But though drywall was invented in 1916, it didn't come into widespread use until the 1940s, ten years after Veblen House was built.

Homasote is another kind of wallboard, and that name has come up occasionally in walkthroughs of the house. But though Homasote was manufactured in nearby Trenton, it was comprised of paper fibers rather than wood, and according to the wikipedia entry was not marketed until the 1940s. 

While most of the wallboard in the house was hauled to a landfill as part of the asbestos removal, we were able to save some. Fortuitously, the asbestos had been found not in the wallboard but in the skincoat applied thereon, presumably to make the wallboard look more like plaster. Since no skincoat was applied in closets, we convinced the town to save those sections of the house's "fabric."

And there, between the studs on the back of the wallboard in the vestibule closet, was a label, upside down near the floor. 

 

The label calls the material Insulating Board, to be used outside or inside the frame to provide some measure of insulation and draft reduction. 

This quote, believed to come from a book entitled Twentieth Century Building Materials: History and Conservation, serves as a good description:

"Fiberboard is a composite hardboard material made from pressure molded wood fibers. It had early precedents in the late 18th century, but was first manufactured in large quantities in the 1920s, with its use expanding in the 1930s and 40s. Fiberboard (or wallboard, as it is commonly known) was marketed by various companies, such as Masonite. It was used as sheathing for roofing and siding on the exterior, for insulation, and for interior walls."

Another excellent online source comes from the U.S. Forest service, entitled Early 20th-Century Building Materials: Fiberboard and Plywood. It describes what at that time were innovative products just beginning to come into widespread use. 

At the bottom of the partially torn label on the Veblen House fiberboard was just enough information to track down the manufacturer, Oswego Board Corp, NY. That name in turn stirred up a few fragments on the internet about that company, which had just formed a few years earlier, with its newly elected president, Floyd L. Carlisle.

Another snippet, from Poors publication, fills in the missing letters on the other name at the bottom of the label: Johns-Manville, which, according to the NY Times, in 1927 teamed with Oswego Board Corporation to manufacture and distribute "a new type of sheathing and insulating board." 

If construction of the plant began in 1927, our 1931 prefab must have been one of the first to be built with this new product.

Without that one label exposed and left undisturbed during asbestos removal, the story of the Veblen House wallboard might have been lost.

Clues on the Walls of Veblen House

In the process of removing asbestos from the Veblen House, the town's contractors have exposed some clues to the Veblen House's past. Most of the wallboard and ceilings contained a skincoat of asbestos-containing material, and were hauled away, revealing here and there a few words and labels on the underlying framing. All of this would have been covered up and "lost to history" if the contractors had painted all exposed surfaces white, as is the usual post-removal procedure. Fortunately, we convinced the town and contractor to apply for a permit to use clear sealant on the walls and ceiling instead. 

One signature on the south wall of the second floor looks like S. Hanlee.

From another angle, it looks more like S.S. Hanlee, so I googled "S.S. Hanlee" ship, and up popped the S.S. Hanley, acquired by Weyerhaeuser in 1923 as an ocean lumber cargo ship. The Hanley and the SS Pomona took lumber to the East Coast. Given that the Balsam Wool insulation in the house was made by Weyerhaeuser, and the house was built in 1931, it's not too farfetched to speculate that some of the lumber for the house, perhaps even the prefab panels themselves, came from that same company.

According to wikipedia, Weyerhaeuser moved its shipping operation from Seattle to Newark, NJ in 1933. The S.S. Hanley and other ships were later put to use for the war effort in WWII. It's conceivable that the S.S. Hanley was named after John Hanley, the only child to be rescued from the S.S. Atlantic, which sank off the coast of England in 1873.

Exploring whether Weyerhaeuser ever built prefab houses, the University of Washington has information on a prefab built in 1932, back when the company was "interested in finding new outlets for its lumber." They did not pursue prefabs any further, however, beyond that one demonstration, according to this text:

Historic New England has information about Weyerhaeuser "4 Square Homes", based in St. Paul, MN. But it looks like "4-square" referred only to lumber used for kiln dried sheathing. The board with the S.S. Hanley inscription looked to be part of the house's sheathing.

Another inscription is less scrutible. "Gellning," maybe? Or Gellnig? Maybe that's a "C"? Nothing popped for those.

Another inscription was a misspelling of J.P.W. Stuart's name, on slats in the ceiling that hold up insulation between the first and second floors. One conclusion is that, whatever business supplied the slats, they didn't know Stuart well enough to spell his name correctly. 

Another item we found inside the walls is metal tags to mark the panels. Each panel is approximately 10' square and bolted together to make the walls. 

Some labels were found on the wallboard and the roof shingles that is helping identify those materials, but that will be taken up in a separate post.

More Vignettes from the Whiton-Stuarts' Days in Prescott, AZ

Removal of asbestos-containing wallboard in the Veblen House revealed this misspelling of the original owner's name. Jesse's name was J.P.W. Stuart, not Stewart. Still, if someone supplying wood for the Whiton-Stuarts' house didn't get the spelling right, maybe others made the same mistake. 

Mary and Jesse Whiton-Stuart brought the prefab house to Princeton from Morristown, NJ, lived in it for ten years, then sold it to the Veblens in 1941. Being wealthy, at least until the crash in 1929, they were frequently mentioned in society columns. Their children's lives too can be tracked in this way. Mary and Jesse married for life, but the son and daughter had seven marriages between them. 

I decided to google J.P.W. Stewart, and got some interesting results. One was a page from a newspaper called the Weekly Journal-Miner, dated Feb. 12, 1913 This dates back to the Whiton-Stuarts' time in Prescott, AZ, when their two kids were young and Jesse left his real estate business in Manhattan to spend his days on a horse, herding cattle in Arizona. 

I love newspapers, which used to cause problems back when I'd save them, to read another day. Now that they are digital, the love can be unfettered by matters of storage. 

Page 5 of the newspaper offers glimpses of their time in Arizona. Here they are, attending a "most attractive and elaborate dinner." This was back when accounts of high society included long lists of who attended. 

Jesse also attended another function, described at length in the "Social Mirror" section of the newspaper. 

That event included amusements for the "misses" who wished to sew. 

Perhaps sewing was not Mary Whiton-Stuart's thing, as she did not attend. 

It can be fun to see what other news appeared on the same newspaper page. Here's an eye-catching headline: the bones of a "giant type of humanity" were found while doing some grading work for the railroad. The bones provide "indisputable" evidence of people who were at least 8 feet tall and dated back to the Toltec period. Similar stories were told of early encounters with a giant race of indigenous peoples in Patagonia. 

The page's politics section also includes mention of George Babbitt, who was likely one of the ancestors of former presidential candidate and environmentalist Bruce Babbitt.

Arrows Point to Veblen History

Herrontown Woods has long been home to arrowwood Viburnums--a native shrub--but on Mothers Day we added an "arrow tree," with arrows pointing to some of the significant places associated with the Veblens' lives and legacy. The arrows were beautifully crafted by Girl Scout Troop 71837, and our caretaker Andrew Thornton scavenged the tree post from among the many rot-resistant trunks of red cedars that still linger in the surrounding woods, long since shaded out by larger trees.

Perhaps some explanation of the arrows' varied destinations is in order.

Old Fine Hall was the original mathematics building at Princeton University, now called Jones Hall. Oswald Veblen is said to have designed the building, down to the stained glass mathematical equations in the windows. 

Valdres is the valley in Norway from which Oswald's grandparents immigrated to the U.S.. Oswald's father wrote a book about that valley and the Norwegians who came from there. 

Einstein's house is included because Einstein would come to Herrontown Woods to visit the Veblens. Einstein would not have moved to Princeton without the work and presence of Veblen, who did so much to help European scholars escape Nazi oppression and come to the U.S.

The yellow arrow facing away from the photo says "Iowa City," where Oswald grew up. His father was a professor of physics at the University of Iowa.

The Institute for Advanced Study is included because it was originally going to be located in Newark. Oswald reached out and successfully made the case that it should be located in Princeton, where it could benefit from synergy with the university. Oswald was the IAS's first faculty member, quickly followed by Einstein. Oswald was instrumental in choosing subsequent faculty members, such as John von Neumann. During its first three years, the Institute was located in Old Fine Hall, along with the Princeton University mathematics department.

The next two arrows point towards Veblen Cottage and Veblen House, which the Veblens acquired in 1936 and 1941, respectfully, and later donated for public use. The buildings have long sat empty (disrespectfully), but the Friends of Herrontown Woods is working to renovate them so that they can finally be utilized as the Veblens originally conceived.

The last arrow points towards York, England, where Elizabeth Veblen grew up. She moved to Princeton to help her brother Owen, who had a visiting position in the Princeton University physics department. Owen later was awarded a Nobel Prize for his work. Elizabeth was an avid gardener, and her central role in Princeton social circles is mentioned in the book, A Beautiful Mind. 

Thanks to Danielle Rollmann and her girlscout troop for creating these most enjoyable and informative arrows!

Asbestos Removed From Veblen House

Over the past few weeks, asbestos was successfully removed from Veblen House. This critical step in repurposing the house was financed by Princeton municipality. Princeton's open space manager, Cindy Taylor, was our contact person throughout the process. A crew from the Lilich firm showed up Monday, April 10, to start prepping the house for the removal. They built an extended entryway for changing in and out of protective gear, 

and covered the wood floors and paneling with plastic. FOHW had worked over the course of many months prior to prepare the house so that none of the oak trim and paneling would be damaged. In particular, volunteer Scott Sillars put many hours into removing trim and covering the wood floors with RamBoard. The contractor could then come in and strip the walls and ceilings of the asbestos-containing fiberboard. We also identified six heat ducts wrapped with asbestos, and made them accessible for the contractors to remove. 

During removal, these long tubes extended out from the house--part of the ventilator system. The aim, apparently, was to release filtered air some distance away from the house, through holes cut in the ends of the tubes. 

Many bags of asbestos-containing material emerged from the house during the week. Most of the asbestos was in a "skin coat" on the walls and ceilings, requiring the removal of the old fiberboard. Between the studs was lots of an early form of insulation called Balsam Wool. Unfortunately, that, too, needed to be removed, even though it didn't contain asbestos, due to a risk of contamination from asbestos in the air during the operation.

During breakdown one week later, a crew member stuffed that last few bags into the back of the dumpster, to be taken to a special disposal site that accepts asbestos-containing materials.

The project was aided by dry weather.

We weren't supposed to go in until the town had signed off on some documents, so here's a peek from outside through the plexiglass windows. Clean is the scene.

The last step in asbestos removal is usually to paint all exposed wood with white paint, but FOHW convinced the town to have clear sealant applied instead, the better to see any writing or other clues to the house's history inside the walls. 

Three members of the crew posed for a photo. Lasko, in the middle, is the supervisor.

Thanks to the town and Cindy Taylor for all their work and support in bringing this important step to fruition.

This Old Brick--What Do the Initials Mean?

While prepping the Veblen House for asbestos removal, I removed a grate on the wall and found this very clearly initialed old brick. Our carpenter, Robb Geores, had introduced me to the meaningfulness of stampings on old bricks, so I knew to give these initials their due. There's a substantial compendium of brick initials online, but it didn't include SRBC. 

Back to Robb for his take, and sure enough, he had a possible answer:

I think that might stand for “ South River Brick Company.” I’m not sure, but it may. There was once a company in South River N J that made enameled bricks. It’s near the town that I come from, Sayreville n j which is known for Brick Manufacturing as well. Bricks from Sayreville are embossed S&F B C. ( Sayre and Fisher Brick Company).

 

The brick was inside the opening for a duct that led to or from the furnace along the edge of the chimney. The orange marking dates back to around 2017, when Mercer County hired a company to mark where asbestos--coated heat ducts could be found in the house. That was part of the county's process that would have led to demolition of the house if not for the Friend of Herrontown Woods' successful effort to save it. 

Also in this photo are two square-shaped impressions in the wall, behind which is the chimney. It will be interesting to see what's behind those two squares. 

Inside a Very Old Septic Tank at Veblen House

It's been nearly four years since I discovered the old septic tank for Veblen House, some fifty feet east of the house. A combination of the tank's thick concrete lid and a whole bunch of distractions had kept us from following up, until yesterday. 

Some magical combination of volunteer chemistry finally stirred in us the courage to take on the concrete lid. After four years, it had grown over with myrtle and partially disappeared under years of leaves. 

However, our procrastination may have been strategically helpful. Perhaps it was prolonged exposure to the elements that created some cracks in the concrete, making it possible to remove it in pieces.

With the lid removed, we were finally able to look at how this very old septic tank once functioned. 

Unlike a more modern septic tank, this one is round, built mostly of cinder blocks. Several courses of bricks were laid around the top to narrow the opening. A pipe came in from the house sewer system, 

and another pipe headed out and down the slope, presumably to a leach field. There had been some question as to whether this would be a cesspool rather than a septic tank, but some research suggests that cesspools lack any outgoing pipe.

Though the septic tank hasn't been used in 25 years, it was nearly filled with water, which we assume is groundwater that has penetrated through the walls. The tank is about six feet deep, with less than a foot of muck at the bottom, as best we could tell. 

It's extremely unlikely that we'd be able to use this old tank for house septic, but it is a historic artifact that we're glad to now know a little more about. We carefully covered it back up, our curiosity satisfied.

Historical Research Can Uncover Uncanny Coincidence

There are some aspects of my role in adopting Veblen House as a longterm project that border on the uncanny. Coincidence has accumulated as I've researched the people who lived in the house. The Veblen House itself, I realized at some point, has much in common with the house I grew up in. 

That house, next to Yerkes Observatory in Wisconsin, is now also named after a renowned scientist, the astronomer Otto Struve, and is similar in color to what the Veblen House was, and is at the end of a drive, surrounded by woods, 

Also echoing the Veblen House, it's even approached along a slightly curving walkway, down and to the left as one pulls into the driveway. 

Oswald Veblen came to Princeton after growing up in the midwest, as did I, and after having lived in a progression of university towns, as did I. His grandparents emigrated from Norway to Wisconsin, where I spent my childhood. His father's father built houses and barns, as did mine. His father was a physicist, mine an astrophysicist. Veblen got his PhD at the University of Chicago, where my father would later spend most of his career. It's likely that Veblen as a boy of 13 saw the 40 inch refracting telescope my father used--the world's largest refracting telescope--on exhibit at the 1893 world's fair in Chicago. I almost went to Carlton College, where Veblen's father and all of his aunts and uncles got degrees. I spent my childhood roaming the expansive grounds of Yerkes Observatory, where brilliant scientists lived on the outskirts of a small town with school colors orange and black, not unlike the circumstances of the Institute for Advanced Study, which Veblen helped to found on the outskirts of Princeton. 

As if these coincidences aren't enough, there's also the first owners of what would later be called the Veblen House, Jesse and Mary Whiton-Stuart, who lived their last years in towns I have familial connections to--San Luis-Obispo, CA and Tucson, AZ, the latter being where we'd go as part of my father's work at nearby Kitt Peak Observatory.

And then there's the uncanny coincidence that came to light when I began researching the origins of the house in Ann Arbor where I lived for many years. It was built and lived in by Walter Colby, a nuclear physicist who in many ways played the same role at U. of Michigan that Veblen played in Princeton, bringing brilliant scholars from Europe to raise the level of science and math in the U.S. They had parallel lives, born in the same year, retiring the same year, their legacies largely forgotten and in need of rediscovery. Neither had children, and both played important military roles in World Wars I and II. Both were married to women who also led singular lives, and tended to beautiful gardens. 

The Emanns and Einstein at the Cottage

There are many stories about the Veblen House and Cottage that have yet to be written up on this blog. Blame it on the sheer pleasure of pursuing history on the internet. We could call it "history bathing"--a form of immersion not unlike forest bathing. It also reminds me of fishing, in that one casts different "baits", e.g. Oswald Veblen or JP Whiton Stuart, into the richly stocked waters of the web, then starts landing lunker after lunker. The sheer joy of making connections and finding meaning in lives made more profound by time is enough to satisfy. To forge the catch into narrative for others to read has pleasure, too, but any attempt to overcome entropy involves effort.

Still, I feel remiss to discover that it has been almost nine years since an email came out of the blue from a woman named Rebecca Martin. She was researching her ancestors, one of whom she had discovered had rented the cottage from 1933 to 1937. 

"My grandmother," she explained,  "lived in the farm house along with her parents and siblings during the 1930s. There's a story about Albert Einstein walking through the woods around the house and speaking to my great grandmother, who would feed him a sandwich and talk with him. She spoke German, so I'm guessing that if this story is true, he probably appreciated communicating with someone in his native language."

She later told me that her grandparents' names were Harry C. Emann and Claire M. Emann. The farmhouse she refers to is what we now call the Veblen Cottage. Oswald and Elizabeth Veblen bought the farmhouse and farm in 1936, apparently from the bank. According to Rebecca's timeline, the Emanns moved out the following year.

Reading Rebecca's email more closely, I realize that it was the great grandmother, not the grandmother Claire, who spoke in German with Einstein. The assumption has always been that the Veblens bought the cottage and farm, and would then have their friend Einstein come out to visit. But if Einstein's friendship with the great grandmother preceded the Veblens' purchase of the property, might it have been Einstein who told the Veblens about the place, which back then was out in the country, far off on the other side of town from where the Veblens lived on Battle Road? And might the great grandmother also have known Max Latterman, who by then was likely working for the Whiton-Stuarts next door, tending to their many horses? Max, too, was a German immigrant, who would continue caring for the property, and the farmhouse as well, after the Veblens bought the Whiton-Stuart's house and land in 1941. 

What we have, then, is the apparent connection between three German immigrants--Einstein, Claire Emann's mother, and Max Latterman--that may have influenced the beginnings of what is now Herrontown Woods. 

Toss the grandmother Clair's name into the waters of the internet and "Find a Grave" tells you her full name was Claire Magdelina McClure Emann, and that she was born October 23, 1906 and is buried in Fountain Lawn Memorial Park in Ewing. A 1998 article in Town Topics tells a bit about her life and family:

Claire Emann, 82, of Longwood, Fla., formerly of Princeton, died December 19 in a nursing home in Longwood Born in Trenton, she lived in Princeton most of her life before moving to Longwood 10 years ago. She was employed by Educational Testing Service, retiring as a supervisor after 20 years of service. Wife of the late Harry Emann, she is survived by three sons. William of Kingston, Walter of Princeton and John Emann of Flemington; two daughters. Ruth Rowley of Longwood, Fla , and Marion Martin of Orlando. Fla.; 19 grandchildren and 17 greatgrandchildren.

The Historical Society of Princeton's staff did some helpful research, finding the Emanns living (apparently renting) on Herrontown Road in 1936. We had hoped a historical address would be found, but the address was "RD" for Rural Delivery. 

Rebecca wrote to me in 2014 about how she feels about the farmhouse her ancestors called home: "It would indeed be a shame to lose it. I was able to visit that house in the spring ten years ago. It was boarded up and falling apart even then. It's too bad more people aren't interested in preserving it."

Well, nine years of persistence later, we do have more people interested in preserving it. FOHW's architects have carefully measured the cottage and with a structural engineer are developing designs for stabilizing it. We've been keeping the structure dry with tarps. Architectural drawings are helping us consider options for repurposing the farmhouse, whose farm so many years later is now a forest.

Found: Original Plant Inventory of Herrontown Woods

Occasionally, artifacts from the early days of Herrontown Woods come to light. 

Betty Horn, who has long taught a spring wildflowers course for the Adult School, and maintains the University's Rogers Bird Room, contacted me last month:

"Hi Steve,
I was at the University yesterday and came across two small metal boxes filled with index cards. They had “Herrontown woods” printed on the side and contained index cards listing plants alphabetically by Latin names.
I don’t know when they were made or who made them. If you would like them, please let me know."

She continued: "They were stored in an Eno Hall basement room known as "The Bird Room." They came to light when the Bird Collection was moved from Eno to Green Hall. They were probably in a niche along with other historical items (such as bird journals from W.E.D. Scott) and were put there when the collection was moved from Guyot to Eno. I think that was in the '70's." - Betty

The boxes are filled with cards, each with a plant name and nothing more. What finally occurred to us was that each plant had two cards--one with its common name, the other with the latin name, just like in the plant inventory that appears in the book about Herrontown Woods published in the early 1970s. The author, Richard Kramer, had done a study of Herrontown Woods for his doctoral dissertation at Rutgers. 

Here's the last page of the inventory in the book.

The index cards must have been the official inventory that was then transferred to the book. How they ended up at Princeton University's Eno Hall is not clear. 

Thanks to Betty for giving us this artifact from Herrontown Woods' early days.

Filling Veblen House With Natural Light

Until this year, Veblen House had been boarded up for nearly 25 years. As our carpenter Robb Geores continued to work inside, and as the pandemic began to ease, we got a bright idea. Businesses were starting to take their Covid shields down. Why not get the word out that we could use any big pieces of plexiglass people were otherwise going to throw away. Mayor Freda sent notice out to the community, and we started getting phone calls and emails. End result? After the last three pieces of plexi go up, we'll have natural light streaming into every room in the house. 

Board member Scott Sillars, whose steady work on the house has been indispensable, helped me lift and install the latest piece of plexi--

a piece so long that it straddles two windows. That gets light into the stairway and the second floor vintage 1930s bathroom.

Robb cut an opening in a temporary plywood wall.

Up went another piece of plexi to allow light into the kitchen.

Meanwhile, the finely crafted windows are getting fixed up, one by one, by a skilled and generous friend of Veblen House. This one is missing some mullions from the many years of abandonment the house patiently endured until our Friends of Herrontown Woods was able to lease the house two years ago. Some of the custom windows are crafted from white oak, others from chestnut.

The Origin Story for Norwegian Emigration to America

Thanks to Norma Smith, wife of retired physics professor Stewart Smith, we now have not only the origin story for Einstein begonias, but also the origin story for emigration from Norway to America. Oswald Veblen's ancestors were very much a part of that emigration. Norma mentioned to me the Restauration, which looked at first like a misspelling but upon further research turned out to be the ship that carried the first organized group of immigrants from Norway to the U.S. Their overloaded sloop landed in New York on October 9, 1825, after a three month voyage. That date, October 9, was considered so seminal that it would later be declared Leif Erikson Day, after the first European to lead a voyage to North America, about 500 years before Columbus. 

Oswald Veblen's paternal grandparents joined that emigration two decades later, in 1847, leaving their ancestral home in the Valdres valley to then homestead in Wisconsin. 

It's interesting to note that that first momentous emigration from Norway to the U.S. was not populated by Lutherans--the dominant religion in Norway--but by Norwegians seeking to escape persecution for their non-Lutheran faith. 

The man who organized that first ship full of Norwegians was a character named Cleng Peerson. An article at NorwayHeritage.com describes the sequence of events that led to this first organized Norwegian emigration to America since Leif Erikson's journey around the year 1000. During the war 1807-1814, some Norwegians who supported Napolean Bonaparte were captured by the British. Influenced by the Quakers they met in prison, they later returned to Norway with new religious leanings. Persecuted in Norway for straying from the Lutheran faith, they sent Cleng Peerson and one other Quaker to explore opportunities in America. Only Peerson survived the trip, and the stories he told upon returning to Norway inspired the voyage of the Restauration the following year. 

A pamphlet Norma picked up in Norway, from which this photo is taken, describes the beginning of Norwegian emigration to America as having been motivated by difficult living conditions, in addition to the religious persecution. 

Cleng Peerson's role as "father of Norwegian emigration to America" could be seen as heroic, and yet a description of him that the pamphlet quotes is down to earth, even hilarious:

"Heavy work was not his forte, but he never tried to take advantage of others. He worked for the benefit of all, but often in such an impractical manner that few, if any, thanked him for his work." 

Sometimes it can be a blessing not to be good at the sorts of things you really best not be doing. Cleng sounds like the sort who was selfless yet was not making himself particularly useful, and so was perfectly suited to leave his community in Norway to scout out possibilities for a better life in America.

Research has revealed several events that intersected with the Veblens' lives. A replica of a Viking ship was built in Norway and sailed to Chicago in time for the 1893 Columbian World's Fair. Oswald and his father Andrew would surely have witnessed its subversive presence, questioning as it did the celebration of Columbus as the first European to discover America. An obituary states that Andrew, a physicist at the University of Iowa, was "twice called as an electrical consultant for the world's fair of 1893."

Andrew's obituary states further that "since his retirement in 1905 (he) devoted nearly all his time to work touching on Norse folk lore, tradition and history, and a family genealogy, for which he had collected material over a period of 25 years. A first edition of the volume was published in 1925."

That publishing date of 1925 was surely timed for Minnesota's 1925 hosting of the Norse-American Centennial, celebrating the Restauration's arrival in NY 100 years prior. Oswald's father lived until 1932, long enough to see both Wisconsin and Minnesota declare Leif Erikson Day a state holiday. 

Contents of the 1974 Auction of the Veblen's Possessions

In preparation for traveling to England this month, where I'm hoping to meet relatives of Elizabeth Veblen, I am collecting everything I've found about Elizabeth and the Richardson family into which she was born. 

Originally appearing in the July 25 Town Topics, below is a list found on Papers of Princeton of items that were auctioned off from Veblen House after Elizabeth died. She had continued to live in the house after Oswald died in 1960. The auction was held on August 1, 1974. I was once told that entering the Veblen House was like returning to the 1920s. This list gives a rich portrait of a house filled with beautiful rugs, furniture, and china, much of which was likely acquired during their many trips to Europe. 

The list also includes "trunks of Einstein" -- further evidence of Veblen's close friendship with Einstein. A trunk is also mentioned in an interview later on of Veblen's close colleague, Deane Montgomery:

"at the time Mrs. Veblen died I was the executor of the estate. I didn't go to the auction of the effects, but one of them was some old second-hand trunk with the name Einstein on it that he'd left in their place in storage." 

Also on the list is mention of the Charles Oppenheimer paintings, which we had previously thought were to be left with the house. Elizabeth's will states, "I give and bequeath all of my pictures, radio receivers and phonograph records to the said County, to be kept by it in the house herein devised as a part of the proposed library and museum of Herrontown Woods." The pictures the will refers to may be photographs Oswald took later in life, documenting Elizabeth's beautiful gardens. It clearly didn't mean the paintings. More on the Oppenheimer paintings in a previous post.

Below is a transcription of the 1974 notice in the paper: 

Fine Antiques — Beautiful China and Glass

Estate of Mrs. Oswald Veblen 

PUBLIC AUCTION

Many of the late mathematician

Italian American Sportsman Club, Princeton, N.J.

500 Terhune Rd. (off N. Harrison St.)

Thurs. Aug. I—9 AM 

Exhibit Wed. July 31

1790 Mahog. Grandfather's clock; 18th century tilt, card and drop leaf tables; good 1790 slant top desk; Chippendale shaving mirror and desk; 2 sets Sheraton chairs; rare 1675 oak storage bench; 1790 Am inlaid hunt board; lovely small 1790 English sideboard; early mahog. 2 pedestal dining table; good 1780 Butlers bureau; early stands; Vict, bureaus, stands, loveseat and towel rack; Jenny Lind bed; rosewood tea caddy; lovely custom reproduction furniture; Jacobean chest; 25 fine old oriental rugs; 10 Mexican rugs; Charles Oppenheimer paintings; rare old prints and engravings; scholar's library ineluding good leather bound; antique fire tools; Bayre lion Bronze; lovely cut, Bohemian and Venetian glass, important Copenhagen, Satsuma. Wedgewood, Irish Belleek, Minton, Brookwood. Chelsea, old Paris gold band and other beautiful china; etc!! Interesting attics contents ineluding trunks of Einstein and other memorabilia! 

Lester and Robert Slatoff - Auctioneers 

Trenton (609) 393-4848

The Bradley-Martin Ball of 1897--two Veblen House Connections

On May 3rd, a couple months ago now, the New York Times style section ran a piece entitled "Much Gilt, Little Guilt: The Met Gala 2022 celebrated themes of opulence, excess and fame." Opulence and excess conspicuously displayed? This sounded like the conspicuous consumption that Oswald Veblen's uncle Thorstein wrote about in The Theory of the Leisure Class. But there was another surprise connection to the Veblen House that jumped out from the text of the article: the Bradley-Martin Ball.

When “Gilded Glamour,” the dress code of the 2022 Met Gala, was announced, it seemed to be either a recipe for extravagant disaster or irony. After all, the current era has often been compared to the late 19th-century Gilded Age, that period between 1870 and 1900 when extreme wealth was concentrated in the hands of the very few, the robber barons came to the fore, and income inequality grew ever greater just beneath the gold veneer on the glittering surface.

That first gilded age came to a symbolic end with a famously ostentatious party, the Bradley-Martin Ball of 1897, in which many of the attendees, the good and great and greedy of New York society, dressed in full swag as Marie Antoinette. Also, Queen Louise of Prussia.

A bit of background: The Veblen House was built not by the Veblens but by Jesse and Mary Whiton-Stuart, a prosperous Manhattan couple well-steeped in wealth, old and new, with family connections to the Rensselaers and Juilliards, the Pynes and Stocktons. They in turn had had a son and daughter, both of whom married three or four times into wealthy families. Son Robert's third marriage was to Edwina Atwell Martin, who had previously been married to Esmond Bradley Martin. 

The lineage goes something like this: The Bradley Martin who hosted the ball of 1897 met his future wife Cornelia Sherman at the wedding of one of the Vanderbilts. One of their sons, Bradley Martin, Jr, married Margaret Phipps, the daughter of Henry Phipps--the business partner of Andrew Carnegie. Phipps money in Pittsburgh would later fund the Phipps Conservatory and Botanical Garden. Their son Esmond Bradley Martin was married for a time to Ewina Atwell, who later married Robert Whiton-Stuart. That marriage, in 1972, came 75 years and two generations after the extravagance of the Bradley Martin Ball. A son of Edwina's, whom I corresponded with, said that when Robert and Edwina married, each thought the other had money, only to soon discover they both had already spent their respective inheritances. 

The other son of Edwina's, Esmond Bradley Martin, Jr., left the plush world of his upbringing to devote his life to saving elephants and rhinos in Africa. Robert Whiton-Stuart's marriage to Edwina late in life made him Esmond's father in law, though it's not clear if the two ever met. 

Note: Esmond the conservationist embodies the 20th century shift from conquest to conservation. His great grandfather Bradley Martin "leased Balmacaan, a well known game preserve" in Scotland. His grandfather, Bradley Martin, Jr "listed his recreations as shooting, fishing, motoring, travelling and deer stalking." His father, Esmond, Sr, for many years "was the world's fly-fishing record holder for Atlantic salmon." From this paternal lineage of conquest came Esmond, Jr, the conservationist.

The Distinctive Windows of Veblen House

Veblen House has beautifully crafted windows, with oak woodwork and little details that add up.

The living room windows, looking out on the expansive garden, create almost a cathedral effect.

Outside, the windows have distinctive hoods. Only one other house in Princeton has been found with this feature.

One window, located under a balcony that had channeled rainwater towards the wall, was removed to repair the rotted framework.

First step was to jack up the ceiling and install a header. 

The windows still function, but some have lost some wooden muntins due to break-ins during the long period of neglect. 

Fortunately, architectural historian Clifford Zink has offered to repair them with wood he has collected over the years.

The windows slide open on hardware designed out west by Vincent Whitney Co. 

Meanwhile, Robb is cleaning up any rot on the sills and applying epoxy. 

As an example of how much thought and craft went into building the windows, most of the muntins are beveled, but a few are not. It might look like a defect or oversight until one notices that the unbeveled muntins are strategically located around two panes, at the top left and right of each window that faces south or west. I theorized that they were left with straight edges so that ornamental glass, e.g. stained glass windows, could be inserted from the inside and held in place. 

Then I happened to go up in the attic. I was showing a Princeton University architecture student around, and his intense curiosity about the house got me looking more closely. The house has been stripped of most everything from the Veblen days, but in a corner of the attic was a pile of glass windows that looked about the right size to fit in the big windows downstairs. 

Sure enough, these are what originally slid into those specially cut spots in the south- and west-facing windows. Though all dusty now, slipping them in place would have creating a space with a clear window on front and back. What would they have put in there? I could imagine dried flowers, or shadow puppets, or stained glass. A nifty idea.

Below is a photo of the living room of Veblen House from the 1950s, when the Veblens were living there. No sign these display panels were in use back then. The view of Elizabeth's garden through the windows probably created its own stained glass effect.