Next Week in The Columbia Paper: "Columbia County's Special Places" How
a young botanist began to document locally important natural areas in
the 1930s and how we can now build on his work. In FEP's next
Perspectives on Place column in The Columbia Paper, May 20, 2010. Sheep & Wool: Background Exploration
Columbia
County was an important early center of sheep husbandry and the wool
industry in the country -- indeed, for much of the 19th century, the
two went hand in hand. Yet even before the sheep and wool boom,
sheep and wool were very important locally, enabling families to
provide clothing for themselves. "The Homespun Age"
Before the advent of the textile industry, most local farm families
kept small flocks of sheep that provided the wool for spinning and
weaving cloth to make their own "homespun" clothing. Women were
primarily responsible for the production of clothing, which involved
many steps from tending the sheep to carding, spinning, weaving, and
fulling the wool. This labor was exchanged and shared by women in
intricate social webs. In 1810, just at the cusp of textile
industrialization, Columbia County homes produced 254,750 yards of
cloth - the second most of any county in the state. Part
and parcel to this production was the development of early mechanical
processes that aided in home cloth making. In 1810, the County
also had 23 carding machines where women would send their wool to be
prepared for spinning, and 22 fulling mills where woven cloth could be
sent for finishing. Families and small manufacturers could save
time, increase their yield, and improve the quality of the cloth by
making use of these early wool processing machines. A Local Diary: "Wool off my own sheep" Claverack
physician Alexander Coventry’s diary gives a small glimpse of this
world. He has several passages that mention different aspects of
the clothes-making process, such as the following excerpts: “1789,
Nov 24 – Went to Williamson’s in P.M. and got my measure for short coat
and trousers, having got that piece from the fulling mill which was
sent there some time ago. There are now about 6 yards made from
wool off my own sheep.” “1791,
August 3 – Had a carding bee in the P.M. Had twelve guests in the
P.M. and Mr. Dowling who has a pair of large cards, one of which [he]
placed in a kind of frame or bench and the other he uses with both
hands. Had a dance at night.” Merinos, Robert Livingston, and the sheep and wool boom
A sketch of 'Clermont,' one of Livingston's Merino sheep, 1810
At the heart of the sheep boom that began in the early 19th century was
the Merino - a Spanish breed of sheep that produced a soft, fine wool
far superior to the wool being produced from "common" unimproved sheep
(Bruegel 2002). However, Merino sheep were a tightly guarded
treasure in Spain and France (at one time the penalty for exporting
Merino sheep from Spain was death). It was therefore not until
the beginning of the 1800s that Merino sheep were successfully
introduced into the United States. Leading the way was local
statesman Robert Livingston. In 1802, while serving as Minister
to France, Livingston was able to obtain 2 prized pairs of Merino sheep
and ship them back to his Clermont estate. He continued to
enthusiastically import, breed, and promote the Merino sheep, in 1809
writing his famous Essay on Sheep where
he extolled the virtues and profit-potential of the Merino. His
efforts were well-rewarded. A speculative “Merino craze” quickly
swept the country, and was further fueled by embargos surrounding the
War of 1812, which cut off British woolen imports. Suddenly
Merino rams were being sold for hundreds of dollars, some especially
prized ones for $1000 each. Boom and Bust A
bust soon followed this early boom; indeed, these up and down
fluctuations marked the whole period of the sheep boom through the
1860s. As Horatio Spafford wrote in the Columbia County section
of the 1824 Gazetteer of the State of New York: “Unfortunately
for themselves and the country, like those in every other part of the
State, the farmers have overvalued, and undervalued, in quick
succession, the Merino Sheep, the subject of so much speculation,
profit, loss, and two-fold regrets." The
rise and fall in the number of sheep and the amount of wool production
continued to fluctuate in response to external circumstances like wars
and protective tariffs on wool products that came and went. The
graph to the right of the number of sheep in Columbia County
demonstrates this fluctuation. Note the effect of the Civil War,
which was a huge boon for local wool manufacturing, as the North found
itself suddenly cut off from its supply of cotton from the South and in
need of large numbers of woolen uniforms, blankets and other supplies
for the Union Army.
Wool Manufacturing in Columbia County Just
as Columbia County was a focal point for Merino sheep production, it
was the epicenter for the wool manufacturing industry. This was
due not only to the ready supply of local Merino wool, but also the
County’s bountiful waterpower and proximity to key innovations in wool
manufacturing. One of the most important innovations was the
introduction of the carding machines manufactured by Arthur
Schofield. By 1802, Schofield had set up shop in neighboring
Pittsfield, Massachusetts, and was soon selling carding machines to the
surrounding area as can be seen in the following advertisement in The
Pittsfield Sun. It is not surprising, then, that in 1810 Columbia
County had 23 carding machines, one of the densest concentrations in
the state.
The Case of Philmont Philmont
has a particularly long, vibrant history of textile manufacturing,
beginning with the construction of a fulling mill in 1796. In
1845, George Philip harnessed the town’s tremendous waterpower by
conducting a dam and excavating a power canal with five different mill
privileges, and wool factories flourished alongside the peak of the
“sheep boom.” In 1852, the New York and Harlem Rail Road opened
up a station in Philmont that further spurred its industrial
development. In the 1860s wool factories gave way to knitting
mills, as knitting machinery improved and the Civil War created new
demand. This spurred spin-off industries, such as a knitting
needle factory and a wool machinery factory. The textile industry
remained an important part of Philmont’s economy well into the 20th
century. The Summit Knitting Mill is a good example of the long,
changing history of textile factories in Philmont. It was
originally the site of a fulling mill in the late 18th
century, then became a satinet factory in the 1820s, added carpet
making in the 1830s, and was converted in the 1860s to a knit hosiery
factory to supply the Union Army during the Civil War. It
continued successfully in the manufacturing of knit hosiery, employing
well over 100 people, until declaring bankruptcy in the early 20th
century, and ultimately being incorporated into the High Rock Knitting
Company as a storehouse. Today, the Summit Knitting Mill building
on Summit Street in Philmont is one of the best-preserved local
remnants of textile manufacturing. You can find detailed
descriptions of it and eight other remaining textile structures in
Philmont in Peter Stott’s recent book Looking for Work: Industrial Archeology in Columbia County, New York.
References
Bruegel, Martin. 2002 Farm, Shop, Landing
Stott, Peter. 2007 Looking for Work: Industrial Archeology in Columbia County, New York.
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4/15 column: "A Window into Sheep"
by Anna Duhon As
spring takes hold, I find myself again and again surprised. One
can’t help stumbling upon new discoveries amidst so much seasonal
change. Our eyes, accustomed to seeing bare trees day in and day
out, suddenly notice a cacophony of white blossoms, or a shimmering
cloud of pale green new leaves on the hillside.
By startling our
senses, the jolt of spring is an invitation to see the familiar world
differently. I am reminded of the famous quote by Marcel Proust,
“the real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes
but in having new eyes.” Or, one might say, in opening new
windows.
A few weeks ago, for example, I had the great
privilege to crack open a window into the amphibian world, as I stood
in witness of their annual migration – the moment each year when, on
the first rainy evenings after a warming spell, salamanders, wood frogs
and the like make their way from their forest haunts to woodland pools
to breed. It is easy to miss this momentous evening in the
amphibian calendar and to see one early spring night as just like the
rest. (I am lucky to work with field biologists who keep me
apprised).
This week, I’ve been looking out the window at
sheep. Not literally, but in preparation for the upcoming Fiber
Arts Day we’ll be participating in at the Philmont Library, I’ve had
the chance to follow the woolly story of sheep and textiles in Columbia
County down the meandering paths of statistics, diaries and
treatises. The result has me squinting at the landscape, trying
to imagine Columbia County during what has been descriptively called
the “sheep boom.”
As this term might suggest, Columbia County
was once sheep country. Literally. In 1845, at the peak of
the sheep boom, sheep outnumbered people in the County four to
one. In the eastern hill towns where sheep were particularly
concentrated (and people were not), this dominance of sheep was even
more pronounced. Here’s an interesting outdoors exercise I’ve
been engaging in lately: imagine turning 360 degrees around and seeing
open land in all directions dotted with flocks of sheep.
The
harder task, perhaps, is to imagine seeing this landscape and the sheep
upon it as our predecessors did. Though we can never do so fully,
through the historical sources that do exist one begins to appreciate
how interwoven sheep were into the landscape, industry, and daily life
of Columbia County.
In the age of homespun (before the boom),
sheep and wool were largely the women’s domain, and women engaged in
complex networks of exchange to accomplish all the many steps of
processing wool (carding, spinning, weaving, fulling) that might clothe
their families.
We are lucky to have the descriptions of
Claverack resident Alexander Coventry, whose 1786 diary entry opens a
window on such exchanges and their role in strengthening the social
fabric: “Marietta went off with the young ladies to a frolic, or
spinning bee. These are so-called, because each young lady that
attends, had had a pound of wool sent her that she must spin herself,
by a certain day, and she must return the [yarn] to the owner; all the
ladies meeting at the house, and having their dinner and supper there,
helping the lady of the house in sewing perhaps, and after tea, have a
dance.”
For most of the period of the sheep boom, however, sheep
meant money. Thanks in large part to Clermont resident Robert
Livingston, the fine-wooled Merino breed of sheep was introduced into
the country at the beginning of the 19th century, and kicked
off a period of wild speculation and high quality domestic wool
production. By 1810, Livingston had sold four of his full-bred
Merino ram lambs for $1000 each, and was selling
unwashed wool for $2 a pound. While this level of speculation did
not last, a generally fortuitous mix of circumstances, tariffs on wool
imports, and state incentive programs often kept the climate for
woolgrowers favorable until the mid-19th century (though there were some notable ups and downs).
With
this in mind, it is easy to understand how sheep helped push land
clearing up to the eastern hilltops, leading to the historic high point
in the County’s open land: around 75% clear.
As might be
expected, sheep and wool-based manufacturing went hand in hand.
Just as Columbia County was at the heart of the Merino sheep craze, it
was an early leader in woolen manufacturing. In the 1825 census,
Columbia County had 19 woolen factories, far outstripping every other
county in the state except for neighboring Dutchess County.
During this same time, it produced nearly three times as many yards of
“fulled” (finished) woolen cloth than any other county in the
state. In 1834 there were only 18 or so wool carpet factories in
the entire United States, and three of them were in Columbia County.
Taking
all of this into account, I’ve been looking at Columbia County with new
eyes. The remnants of wool factories and sheep-cleared land no
longer look quite so common. Instead of being just another
landscape with an agricultural and industrial past, I’ve come to see
our particular part of the Hudson Valley and Berkshire Hills as the
cradle of the nation’s sheep husbandry and wool industry. One
more window from which to see our landscape.
The Number of Sheep in Columbia County This graph depicts the fluctuating number of sheep in Columbia County from the early 19th century to the present.
In
this 1870s view of the Summit Knitting Mill in Philmont, one can see
the extent of open land and cleared hilltops that the "sheep boom"
helped create.
This
map of New York state is shaded to depict the number of wool factories
in each county in 1825 - the darker the shading, the higher the number
of factories. On the right side of the map one can see that the
highest concentration of wool factories was in Columbia and Dutchess
Counties: each had 19 at that time, far more than any other county in
the state.
An advertisement from the High Rock Knitting Company.
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