“Stitching Seams” is a new exhibit at the Stockbridge Library, researched and prepared by intern Adrian Rhind in collaboration with Collections Steward Andrea Caluori. It tells the story of the clothes we have worn from the 1800s to just yesterday, from bustle to mini skirt—what fun!
In the 18th and early 19th centuries, the woman was the chief production officer in the household. She made finished goods out of what her husband supplied: food out of crops, cloth out of cotton and wool, and clothing out of cloth and animal skins. Of first importance, she produced babies, creating the labor force for whatever the family enterprise was.
In a time when most products were “home spun,” tailoring was considered a skilled trade, and a tailor was most often a man. In the spotlight at “Stitching Seams” is a tailor named Nathaniel Seymour, or, perhaps more accurately, Seymour’s Ledger. In it you can read about what he made for whom and for how much from the late 18th to the early 19th century.
At that time, the American economy was shifting from agrarian to manufacturing and store-bought was replacing homespun. A draper named Charles Worth would be the first to put his name inside a woman’s dress and found the very exclusive and very expensive world of designer clothes.
From homespun to tailor to couturier, from crinoline to denim, from Gibson Girl to Twiggy, from hand stitched to the sewing machine, clothing tells us a lot about us. Did you know a sleeve can tell the period in which a dress was made? Or that color and shape can tell the economic class of the wearer? What they wore and how they wore it is displayed at the Library Museum and Archives.
“This exhibit includes clothing items that reflect different eras, materials, and fabrication techniques,” and a compelling story is told.
Seymour’s Main Street
On one side of the street was his house, and across was his tailor shop. He must have made a respectable living because the size and details of the house speak of a comfortable life. Moreover, the house remained in the family for 109 years as the family members transitioned from tailoring to storekeepers.
“Across the street and next to the bank was Mr. George Seymour, the grocer, who also sold cat gut, fishhooks, sinkers, and fishing poles [as well as] candy in a glass case at the end of the counter.” According to “Stockbridge 1739–1929.”
Authors Sarah Cabot Sedgwick and Christina Sedgwick Marquand describe, “Mr. Seymour had healthy red cheeks, liked to smoke, and was pleasant and courteous to everyone.”
Returning to George’s progenitor, Nathaniel Seymour, the tailor, it is possible there were two or more tailors in Stockbridge on the same block even though Sedgwick and Marquand describe Stockbridge as decidedly smaller and less sophisticated than other villages.
It was 1886 in Stockbridge when they finally did it! They nominated a woman for an elected position. When they did, the newspaper reported that people were “convulsed and shaken.” They opined that any woman who wanted the job was suspect. They called her names and dug deep to find misdeeds.
She won the nomination partly because she was running against a man who was crazier than a barn owl. Nonetheless they did it—the first one ever.
The popular, respected male manager of the Red Lion Inn resigned from the position of Stockbridge postmaster, leaving the parties scrambling for a replacement.
A real estate man looked like a good choice, and many were prepared to back him, but then it was discovered he was not a true party man. Besides, he was not as stable as one might wish an elected official to be. The local attorney and political operative stepped in and recommended against backing the real estate fellow.
They heeded the attorney’s advice and threw their weight behind a sober banker—a tad boring, but stable. The attorney at law was back shaking his finger and shaking his head. He had scuttled the real estate man’s ship and now moved in to sink the banker’s.
He stated firmly that the bank needed all his time, so he would be unable to do the job properly. The banker’s name was dropped and the panic within the party rose. Where would they find a candidate?
That attorney, the political strategist, wasn’t finished. He proclaimed he had a solution, and by gosh, he nominated a woman. A woman was nominated as U.S. Post Mistress before women could vote and before anyone had ever used the two words “post mistress” together.
Remember the digging for dirt on a woman so brazen as to run for office? The digging finally paid off and a plot was alleged. The attorney owned the building where the female nominee’s father had his tailor shop. The attorney extracted a promise from the woman that when she was made Post Mistress, she would move the post office to the attorney’s building. The move would increase the lawyer’s rent roll substantially and increase her father’s business by bringing daily traffic by his shop as townsfolk picked up and dropped off the mail.
The lawyer was exposed as self-serving. The female nominee was exposed as a victim of deception. The banker and the real estate man permanently stepped out of politics. Bloodshed was averted when the manager of the Red Lion withdrew his resignation and remained Postmaster for the good of the town.
Was the prospective Post Mistress a Miss Seymour? Probably not, and even though the local tale is more colorful, the truth is probably that the lady was Miss Agnes Smith, possibly no relation to a tailor, appointed not by a crafty lawyer but by U.S. President Grover Cleveland and served without incident—notwithstanding “convulsions.” Isn’t mountain lore a bit more fun?
