Veblen House has beautifully crafted windows, with oak woodwork and little details that add up.
Tuesday, April 19, 2022
Friday, April 15, 2022
An unexpected vein of Veblen-related research began with an email from a friend at the Princeton Public Library asking me to assist in finding a descendent of Einstein's begonia. Einstein had a begonia he was fond of, and after he died his secretary gave cuttings to physicist friends in Princeton. With a little help from the internet, I was able to learn the story of how cuttings from Einstein's begonia have lived on long after his passing in 1955. A friend also gave me some cuttings, two of which I passed on to people involved in creating an Einstein museum in Princeton.
I thought I was done with my work until a Canadian film director named Charlie Tyrell contacted me. He's making a movie called "Show Me the Past is Real," exploring "the emotional power that objects have over us personally and collectively," and would like to find the actual plant--the "mother plant"--that Einstein himself owned. (One of the creative and moving documentaries that Charlie has done, by the way, is called Broken Orchestra, about a citizen movement to get Philadelphia to restore funding for music in the schools. Watching it is eleven minutes well spent.)
The search for the "mother plant" led me back to my friend Vicki who had supplied me with cuttings, to see if she knew the progression of owners through whom her plants had come. She said she'd contact her source.
For a long time, I heard nothing, and then came an email out of the blue from Norma Smith.
My husband and I were walking in the Herrontown Woods near the Veblen house and met you last year, I believe.
My husband AJStewart Smith (83) is a retired professor from the physics department at Princeton University. I was and remain friends with many of the retired physics faculty members and their spouses. The story of the Einstein begonia is as follows:
Mrs. Joan (pronounced Joann) Treiman, the wife of Sam Treiman, a theorist who was a young physics faculty member when Einstein was alive, got a cutting of the Einstein begonia from Einstein’s secretary, Helen Dukas. Joan Treiman gave a cutting to another faculty member’s wife, Eunice Wilkinson. Eunice Wilkinson gave me a cutting and I and my husband (a true gardener) thought the plant was so special that we made many cuttings and started to give cuttings to people who seemed as enthusiastic about the plant as we were. I gave the cutting to Vicky Bergman who was in my aerobics group at the Senior Center, and somewhere over the years we heard even the horticultural department at the university started to call it the “Einstein Begonia”! Joan Treiman died in 2013 at age 87 and I am quite sure she no longer had the plant when she died. Eunice Wilkinson now lives in a retirement center in Boulder, Colorado and no longer has a plant to my knowledge.
We were thrilled to hear what you are doing re Oswald Veblen’s home and the land he donated. My parents were immigrants from Norway and I knew Veblen had Norwegian ancestry so was always interested in stories about him. His uncle Thorstein Veblen had a summer hut on Washington Island, in Door County, Wisconsin; our daughter-in-law’s family lives in Door County and our son and family have a home there so we have made several trips to Washington Island and have read stories about Thorstein’s presence on the island, interesting to look up on google if you don’t already know about them.
Good luck with the wonderful work you are undertaking.
Best wishes, Norma SmithIt was astonishing to hear the whole lineage laid out. Historical research usually involves pieces bits and pieces from multiple sources together over time. Another friend's source for Einstein begonias, Martha Otis, contacted me with essentially the same news: the "motherplant is long gone - only cuttings from cuttings from cuttings etc on and on exist."
Saturday, April 9, 2022
The beauty of Veblen House doesn't grab you at first. Though the setting is lovely, the exterior has for now lost its ornament of balcony and outside stairway. The inside has for nearly 25 years been darkened by boards over the windows. The paint is chipped, but with the right camera and the right lighting, the charms of Veblen House begin to accumulate. We've shown the house to many architects and builders, and each has said they've never seen anything quite like it. After 15 years of advocating for the house, and successfully resisting those who wished to tear it down, we are still discovering new things about it. Bob Wells, who lived in the house longer than anyone, from 1975 to 1998, wrote of the house in 2009 what has proven to be true: "She reveals her secrets and special beauties slowly and to those that love her and attend to her." We've discovered the same about the Herrontown Woods of which Veblen House is a part. Some of its secrets only come clear through acts of stewardship.
These are some of the house's features captured by founding Friends of Herrontown Woods board member Sally Tazelaar when she photographed the inside of the house in 2019.
Saturday, February 26, 2022
Few people driving out Snowden Lane in Princeton will notice this little old bridge. Replaced by a larger bridge in 1965, it still remains, just upstream of the newer one. Why was it not demolished when the new bridge was built? Either they realigned the road for other reasons, or someone felt it special enough to save. Back when this part of town was referred to as "the country", the bridge would have been used frequently by the Veblens to reach their home, by their friends like Einstein to visit, and by members of the Moses Taylor Pyne family to reach their horse farm where Snowden Lane meets Herrontown Road.centering", upon which the stones had been laid, in such a way that their shapes would keep them in place after the framing was later removed.
Friday, February 25, 2022
One of the stories passed down about Veblen House was that its roof was built separately from the rest of the house. I had assumed that meant that the Whiton-Stuarts had brought the first and second floors from Morristown, then added a roof when the house was reassembled on its current site in Princeton.
Then came a day when a number of us were up in the attic with some knowledge of construction and history--Clifford Zink, Jim Huffman, Peter Thompson--not sure who all. And someone pointed out that the layer of thick tar paper covering the floor looked as if it were the covering for a flat roof. They looked more closely, and found more evidence to that effect.
The real story was waiting to be found at the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C., in Box 43 of Oswald Veblen's papers, donated after his death. In fact, the real story had been found years ago, and sent to me by Victoria Floor after she spent a couple days going through his papers while visiting a friend there. I recently looked back and read what she'd sent:
Box 43 Herrontown woods file—receipts for minor repairs, roofing Matthews Construction Co, Princeton (feb 28, 1941) ‘TO REMOVE THE PARAPET WALLS AT THE GABLE ENDS OF THE ABOVE HOUSE…THE REMOVAL OF THE RAILING RAILING AND PATCHING…EXPOSED PORTIONS OF THE ROOF CAUSED BY ABOVE ALTERATION…CONSTRUCTION OF A SIMPLE CORNICE…[OTHER ROOFING JOB DETAILS] 1 P.
Our carpenter, Robb Geores said he was "intrigued that parapet walls were removed on the gable ends. Parapet walls are usually a low wall around a flat roof. I would guess that they framed the roof on top of the flat roof. Then removed the parapet walls on the gable ends and then filled them in. There's still a curb up there in the attic. And also what appears to be exterior roofing on the floor. Totally supports the theory."Robb sent a link from the Princeton Academy website, describing the legacy of the Matthews Construction Company, which built their Manor House. Describing the "quality of the construction and craftsmanship," they described Matthews as
by far the most successful construction company in Princeton in the first half of the twentieth century. Their projects include the Nassau Inn and Palmer Square, the Graduate College and most of the Collegiate Gothic buildings on the Princeton campus. Matthews built the Dignan House in 1930 and 1931 at the height of the Depression and the project provided vital labor for the firm’s stonemasons, woodcarvers, and glaziers. During the late 1920s, Matthews constructed the Princeton University Chapel.
The NY Times obituary for Matthews in 1951 states that the firm erected most of the buildings on campus over the course of fifty years.
Wednesday, January 5, 2022
It's a good feeling to have most of the framing for Veblen House repaired. Though there were some sills, joists, and studs that needed to be either replaced or "sistered", the extent of rot was surprisingly small, considering the house went through 23 years of neglect, boarded up since 1998.
ne source explains the name: "The fibers came from various wood species such as redwood, fir (Balsam), cedar and usually consisted of the tree bark, wood pulp and other wood byproducts."
Judging from advertising for the product back in the 1920s, the concept of insulation, especially insulation that came in rolls, was in its infancy. A 1929 ad for Balsam Wool insulation touts its thickness (1 inch was considered thick back then), and its capacity to "tuck into every nook and cranny" and "seal every crack." Jesse Whiton-Stuart, seeking to sell the house to the Veblens in the late 30s, touted these very characteristics--the house's draft-resistant, insulated walls.
"Isn't it absurd," the advertisement declares, "to buy a good boiler, feed it expensive fuel and then let a third or more of the heat escape through the walls and roof?" It's not clear if this common sense frugality was present throughout the 20s, or became popular only after the stock market crash in 1929.
Tuesday, November 30, 2021
Thanks for the note! Those woods were a lovely place of refuge for many of us during our student days! Thanks for taking care of them.
Yes, Toshiko was an eager and expert mushroom hunter. I am sure that Toshiko would have gladly taken up an offer to hunt mushroom in the Institute Woods. So I have no reason to doubt the story at all.
Where she got her clay depended on the year. The clay recipe we used when I was taking classes (69-74) was heavily made up of Jordan Stoneware Clay which was (if memory serves…) mined in New Jersey. That source was exhausted by 1980 or so and she shifted to other recipes. In the 80s she also experimented with adding red clay dug from her property in Quakertown, NJ. This clay was high in iron and melted at a low temperature so it could only be a minor addition to give the clay body a richer color.
We still use her “post-Jordan” recipe at the studio, by the way.
Toward the end of her life she had helpers up at Skidmore College mixing her clay at loading her station wagon, when she would give her frequent workshops there. I have no idea whether that recipe was the same or a different one.
Thursday, November 11, 2021
A long lingering mystery has been solved in the most surprising way at Veblen House. That mystery was 2'x3'--the dimensions of what for two decades has been a blank space above the mantel in the living room. The story was told that, soon after the house was boarded up by the county in 1998, someone entered the house and tore the painting off from above the mantle, in search of hidden treasure.
In a previous post about paintings that once hung in the living room, I told how Bob Wells, who rented the house with his family from 1975 to 1998, described the painting as a desert, with scrub rather than cacti, with a view from a rise out across a broad valley, with mountains in the distance. Bob would sit there in the evening and gaze at that painting and let his imagination go.
Enthralled by the light and life of the West, Kate stayed with the Hopi for seven years photographing, painting and writing about Hopi daily life. She took more than 500 photographs of the Hopi people. She was a schoolteacher at the Polacca Day School near the Hopi village of Walpi on First Mesa for many years. During this time, she compiled a dictionary titled, Hopi Alphabet, containing over 900 Hopi words and phrases. In addition to chronicling the Hopi people on canvas and film, she also wrote down her experiences of living with the Hopi in her unpublished journal, “Of Living with the Hopis.” The Hopi called her “Paina Wurta” meaning “Painter Woman.”
During the 1920s and ‘30s, Cory was a consultant for Western films in Hollywood. And in 1930, the Bureau of Reclamation hired Cory to paint the site where the Boulder Dam would soon after be built. She completed several works from the trip, each one residing in the Arizona Capitol Museum, the National Gallery of Art in Washington DC, and the Sharlot Hall Museum in Prescott.
Though Cory is described as having lived a very frugal life in Prescott, there are multiple points in her life where the world of business influenced her trajectory. Her family moved east from Waukegan, IL to Newark so that her father, an abolitionist and newspaper editor, could better manage his Wall Street interests. She was convinced to go to Arizona by a painter who had been employed by the Sante Fe railroad to do paintings out there to promote the rail line. In Prescott, she advised businessmen who were seeking to preserve the Hopi ceremonies.
Life among the Hopi had caused her to reject materialism. An entry in Wikipedia tells of her combination of frugality and generosity:
In her earnest intention to avoid living a wasteful life, she became known in Prescott for being eccentric. Fellow church members offered to replace her torn and tattered clothes. She was frugal, but gave away two cabins she owned to renters. She removed debris from rain water and used it to develop photographs. Rather than sell her paintings, she bartered them.
She died in Prescott on June 12, 1958 at the Arizona Pioneers' Home and was buried at the Pioneers' Home Cemetery near her friend Sharlot Hall. The inscription at her gravesite names her "Artist of Arizona" below which is: "Hers Was The Joy of Giving".
Though we now know the name of the painter, we still don't know what happened to the painting. It was not torn out, but in fact carefully cut out of the frame, so may well still exist.
Thus far, I've reached out to the Sharlot Hall Museum, the Smithsonian American Art Museum, the Museum of Northern Arizona, the Prescott Public Library, and also the Museum of Indigenous People, seeking someone who can help us better understand the frame and lost painting that for 90 years had been embedded in the custom paneling at the Veblen House.Rare Views and Maps of Old New York" was sold at auction by Anderson Galleries in 1918.
The discovery of the source of the painting--a unique and courageous woman who left behind a remarkable legacy--and the painting's setting above the family hearth, speak to Whiton-Stuart's taste. Having grown up on Park Avenue in New York, in the center of a vibrant city, he later sought out people and places on the periphery. Before he and his family moved to Prescott, he had traveled widely, "crossed over- land through Persia, visiting missionaries and hermits who had not seen a traveller for twenty-five years." His interest in mathematics ("Between these travels I attended Williams College, Massachusetts, and Cambridge University, England, principally for the courses in mathematics") also turned at times to those on the periphery, like Charles Sanders Peirce, the philosopher and mathematician who was rejected by academia yet credited with being the "father of pragmatism."
Veblen House continues to serve as a window into the early 20th century, connecting to worlds otherwise unknown or forgotten.