Cookies (no calories)

 by Susan Zehnder, Education Director

For many of us, the holidays are all about smells: evergreens, scented candles, and freshly baked treats. And when the timer goes off and the warm smell of cookies fills the room, it can be hard to wait until the batch is cool enough to eat.  

If this is the situation for you, have no fear. As the educator, I’ve asked my colleagues to name their favorite cookies and I’ve added some history to think about while you wait.

Archivist Rachel Dworkin chose Snickerdoodles as her top cookie. While taking a middle school home economics class, she and a friend were assigned this strange sounding cookie to bake. They carefully followed the recipe and to their surprise, they ended up liking them so much that every time she and her friend got together, they’d make a batch.

According to cookbook author Ann Byrn, Snickerdoodles were probably brought to the United States by early Dutch-German immigrants. They became a big hit in 1891, when Cornelia “Nellie” Campbell Bedford, a New York City cooking teacher and newspaper columnist published her version of the recipe. She called for sugar cookie dough to be sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar and baked in a tray. In the 1930s, bakers started chilling the dough and forming balls they would roll in a mixture of cinnamon and sugar.  

The cookie’s iconic name isn’t as clear. Some attribute it to the German word “Schneckennudle” which translates to snail noodles, while another insists it’s a nonsensical word created by New Englanders who were known for their silly names for cookies.

Senior Curator Erin Doane’s favorite cookie is as much about looks as about taste. She remembers her grandmother using special cookie cutters to make these masterpieces each Christmas. Her grandmother also made sure each of her grandchildren knew how to make them. So knowing how critical the tools are to the cookie, Erin tracked down the iconic cookie cutters and has adapted the cookie to reflect her mixed-faith household. Now each winter she creates her own Jolly Santa and Happy Rebbe cookies.  

The important “Aunt Chick” cutters, used to make these cookies, were the invention of Nettie Caroline Williams, a former home economics teacher. Finding too much time on her hands after she married, Williams wrote a popular food column in the Tulsa, Oklahoma newspaper under the name Aunt Chick. She also invented various kitchen items to make life easier for home cooks and presented cooking shows at Tulsa’s premier department store, Vandever’s. These were so well-received that she was asked to share them at Macy’s in New York and other venues across the nation. Her 1939 cookbook, “Aunt Chick’s Pies,” sold over 650,000 copies.

Nettie Caroline Williams

The success of her cookie cutters, invented in 1948, was that they allowed dough to keep its sculptural shape while sliding free of the cutters. These became such a hit with bakers that in 1952, Princess Margaret of England bought a set for four-year-old Prince Charles. Thanks to the royal publicity, 70,000 sets were sold in just six weeks.

Our executive director, Bruce Whitmarsh, forced to choose just one kind of cookie, selected Chocolate Chip Cookies.

Ruth Wakefield

These favorites first showed up in a 1938 cookbook, “Tried and True” written by Ruth Wakefield of Whitman, Massachusetts. For years, she had served this treat to rave reviews at her Toll House restaurant. Not a happy accident as some thought, Ruth Wakefield created this cookie intentionally. Before running the restaurant, Wakefield had taught home economics at what later became Framingham State College, where she had earned a degree.

The Chocolate Chip cookie became an instant hit and caught the attention of chocolate manufacturer Nestle’s. To promote sales of their chocolate, they created a special tool for bakers to chop their semi-sweet bars into bits. In 1939, they negotiated with Wakefield to print her recipe on the back of each package, then took it further and created the chocolate morsels or chips that bakers use today.

Office Manager Samantha Sallade’s favorite cookie is Pepperidge Farm’s Chocolate Orange Milano. Like the others, we can thank a woman for inventing these cookies.

Margaret Rudkin

In 1937, Margaret Rudkin of Fairfield, Connecticut, was looking for help. Her youngest son had asthma and reacted badly to preservatives in commercially processed foods. Her husband, was off work, having been injured in a polo game, and economic times were challenging. Her solution to all this was to bake her own bread. Women were not baking their own bread anymore, and the store options were limited. Rudkin started selling bread to specialty stores on the East Coast and a month later she had sold over 4,000 loaves of the high-end bread.

She named the company Pepperidge Farms after her family’s farm in Fairfield where she had started baking. Her products were known for their quality. By 1947, it was necessary for her to move operations and open a modern commercial bakery.

Business continued to grow, and she added other products. On a trip to Europe in the 1950s, she came across fancy chocolate cookies. Convinced she could sell something similar in the United States, she bought the rights to produce them and launched Pepperidge Farm’s Distinctive Cookies line, each named after a European city.

In addition to quality ingredients, Rudkin believed in supporting working women. She actively encouraged and hired women, and gave advice to women who wanted to go into business for themselves. In 1942 she told a newspaper, "I don't believe that there is any job women can't do," and "They handle machines as well as men and they're marvelous to work with." In the 1950s, she was called one of the 50 most powerful businesswomen by Fortune Magazine.

In 1961, Rudkin sold the company to the Campbell Soup Company for over 25 million dollars. She was the first woman invited to sit on their board.

So the next time you wait for a batch of cookies to cool, or are waiting in line at the grocery, know that history is one of the important ingredients.  As for my favorite cookie, I’ll take one of each.

Working at the Langdon Mansion

 by Rachel Dworkin, Archivist

Wandering through our current exhibit on the Langdon mansion, “Grand, Domestic and Truly Comfy,” it’s tempting to imagine one’s self living there. But what about working there? Can you imagine that? Statistically speaking, it’s the more likely option. After all, the majority of the people who lived there over the years were the family’s employees. From when the Langdon’s purchased the home in 1863 to when it was demolished in 1939, they never employed less than three live-in servants. Some were employed there for decades, others barely made it a month. Who were these people and what were their lives there like?

Grand, Domestic, and Truly Comfy

Most of what we know about the servants employed by the Langdon family comes from census records. Conducted every 10 years, the US census provides us with the names and details of 17 of the various women who worked and lived in the Langdon household between 1870 and 1930. For example, in 1870, they employed Laura McCuin, a 20-year-old maid from Ireland, Nora McCan, another 20-year-old maid from Ireland, and Laura McInan, a 60-year-old Black woman from Pennsylvania. McInan was the only Black woman known to have worked at the Langdon mansion. Although her profession is simply listed as servant, given her age, she was likely either the housekeeper or cook. 

Census record for the Langdon home, 1870

Being a housemaid in the 19^th century was a young woman’s game. They not only had to dust, sweep, mop, and beat the carpets, they also had to tend the fires and gaslights, and scrub the resulting soot off the walls. In the 1870s and 1880s, the majority of the Langdon’s servants were in their 20s. They had to be in order to handle the strenuous work. Most of them would leave the profession within a few years in order to marry or take better-paying factory jobs. By the 20^th century, once the gaslights had been replaced by cleaner electric lighting and modern tools like vacuum cleaners made life easier, the Langdon’s servants tended to be older. These were no longer young women hoping to build a bit of a nest egg before leaving service to marry. These were older women who had decided to make a real career in the profession. One woman, Elizabeth Gagan, was 40-years-old when she appeared in the Langdon household in the 1920 census and was still there 10 years later at age 50 in 1930.

The vast majority of the known Langdon servants, 13 out of 17, were either from Ireland or were the children of Irish immigrants. This was in keeping with national trends. Starting with the Irish Potato Famine from 1845 to 1852, there was a massive influx of Irish immigrants to the United States. Unlike many other countries where women arrived as part of a family unit, many young Irish women immigrated alone so that they could send a portion of their wages home to their families. Irish maids had advantages over other immigrants in that they already spoke English. While immigration guides published in Ireland recommended that men only come in the spring and summer when they were likely to find jobs as seasonal laborers, Irish women could find work year round.

The servant who worked at the Langdon mansion the longest was not Irish, however, but of WASP-y New England stock. Esther C. Burr, worked for the Langdons for over 50 years. She was born Esther Hudson on February 28, 1847 in Alder Run, Pennsylvania near Milerton to parents who had come from Connecticut. She herself had moved to Elmira as a young woman. Here, she found work as a seamstress and a demonstrator at the Singer Sewing Machine store. She also found a husband. After he died, she took a job with Langdon family as a seamstress and lady’s maid for Ida Langdon, wife of Charles Langdon, in 1885. By 1900, she was 53 years old and had worked herself up to become the housekeeper. When her mistress died in January 1935, she willed Esther $500. The other servants got another $500 to split between them. Esther herself died a few months later at age 88 in the Langdon home.

 

Headline from Star-Gazette June 3, 1935

 The Langdon mansion was demolished in 1939. By then, the era of the live-in servant was largely over. Certainly no one would live and work at the Langdon home again.

 

Langdon home, ca. 1930s.

 

The Sellers of Knox Hats in Elmira

by Erin Doane, senior curator

The Knox Hat Company of New York City produced fine hats for nearly 100 years. Before his speech at the Cooper Institute in 1860, Abraham Lincoln purchased a new Knox stovepipe hat. He was one of 23 U.S. presidents who wore the company’s hats. But you didn’t have to be elected to the highest office in the country to wear a hat made by the Knox company. Regular people could purchase a Knox hat right here in Elmira. CCHS has seven of them in our collection, four of which have labels from local stores.

Knox label inside a fedora sold by Burt’s, Inc. in Elmira

First, a brief history of the Knox Hat Company. Charles Knox, an immigrant, founded his company in lower Manhattan in 1838. At first, he sold beaver hats out of a small shop, but the business quickly grew. His son Edward, a Civil War veteran, took over in 1878. By the turn of the century, Knox hats were being sold all over the country, and the company’s factory was one of the largest in the world. Edward died in 1916, but the company continued until 1932 when it merged with Cavanagh-Dobbs, Inc. and Dunlap & Company to form the Hat Corporation of America. Hats were still being produced under the Knox brand name until the early 1980s.

The Knox Hat Company put a large portion of its budget into advertising and had thousands of sales agents throughout the country. One could purchase Knox hats in Elmira from the late 1890s through the 1970s.

Advertisement for Knox hats at Callahan’s,
106 West Water Street, Star-Gazette, May 14, 1898

H. Strauss 

Knox Hat Co. derby sold by H. Strauss, early 1900s

Label inside the derby

H. Strauss was the sole agent of Knox hats for men in Elmira from the early 1900s through the 1920s. Herman Strauss, founder of the company, came to the U.S. from Baden, Germany in 1863 when he was 17 years old. He started as a peddler, carrying a 120-pound pack door-to-door. In 1872, he opened a haberdashery at 205 East Water Street. He sold men’s clothing and accessories at that location for 59 years and was active in the business until just a week before his death on March 23, 1932 at the age of 87.

H. Strauss advertisement, Star-Gazette, August 23, 1912

Herman’s son Charles W. Strauss took over the business in 1932. The store was closed briefly to settle the estate but reopened after renovations in September of that year with all new stock. In 1937, the shop moved to North Main Street after 65 years in the same location. It was forced to close after the flood of 1972. At that time, Charles’s nephew Harold Unger was leading the company, and had been doing so since Charles’s death in 1964. Rather than reopening downtown, H. Strauss opened a new store at the mall. That lasted until 1991 when Bruce R. Chalmers, who had worked at H. Strauss under Unger and purchased the company in 1985, moved the store back to Elmira. He set up shop at 311 College Avenue. In 1994, H. Strauss relocated to 636 West Church Street and it remains there today, though it is currently only open by appointment.

Burt’s Inc.

“Foxhound” style Knox fedora sold by Burt’s Inc., 1953

Burt’s label inside fedora

By the 1930s, H. Strauss was no longer the sole agent of Knox hats in Elmira. They could also be purchased at Burke O’Connor Men’s shop in the Mark Twain Hotel. The primary seller of Knox hats by the mid-1940s, however, was Burt’s Inc. at 157 North Main Street.

Advertisement for H. Strauss, Star-Gazette, May 28, 1945

0Arthur H. Burt and Walter Daily received an official charter for Burt’s, Inc. from the New York State Department in 1922. Burt was born and raised in Elmira and Daily came here in 1917. That year, the pair established Burt’s Inc. to sell men’s and boy’s clothes. Their first store was at 113 West Water Street. In 1922, they purchased the clothing store of Fred J. Bernet at 103 Water Street and began conducting business there. Burt continued to run the business when Daily left in 1935. The store moved again in 1937 to 157 North Main Street. It remained there until 1963 when Burt passed away and the store closed.

Burt’s Inc. advertisement, Star-Gazette, November 2, 1944

Burt’s Inc. started selling Knox hats in the later 1920s and continued selling them through the store’s final closing in 1963. Jerome’s at 350 North Main Street took over sales of Knox hats after Burt’s closing and continued selling them through 1979.

Mrs. G.W. Cornish and The Cornish Shop

Ladies’ Knox hat sold by Mr. G.W. Cornish, c. 1910

Label inside the hat

The Knox company did not only make hats for men. They also produced women’s hats. In 1906, Mrs. Gene W. Cornish began her millinery business at 111 West Market Street, offering a fine line of trimmed and untrimmed hats. She traveled regularly to New York City to purchase new merchandise - including Knox hats - and to visit family.

Advertisement for Mrs. G.W. Cornish, Star-Gazette, September 28, 1906

The change in the business name to the Cornish Shop first appears in the local newspaper in 1914. That year, the store also relocated to 108 North Main Street. It continued to be the purveyor of Knox hats, offering the latest seasonal styles for fashionable women.

The Cornish Shop advertisement, Star-Gazette, October 13, 1919

Fourteen years later, in 1928, the Cornish Shop moved into one of the storefronts in the Mark Twain Hotel where it continued to carry Knox hats. It’s interesting to note that in the 1930s, S.F. Iszards, the Mark Twain Hotel’s neighbor just down North Main Street, also sold Knox hats.

The Knox “Midshipman” sold by The Cornish Shop, 1920s

Labels inside the “Midshipman”

The Cornish shop remained at the Mark Twain Hotel until 1936. It moved to a couple other locations downtown over the next few years and was located at 107 W. Church Street in 1942 when its proprietor passed away after an extended illness. Gene Cornish’s passing marked the end of the Cornish Shop but one of her long-time employees, Blanch K. Holland, took over the store, renamed it the Holland Hat Shop, and continued selling Knox hats there through the middle of the 1940s.

Better Films

by Susan Zehnder, Education Director

The 19^th century saw photography inspire a brand-new medium: moving pictures. By the end of the century, most movies were 30 seconds or less, but they captivated audiences who flocked to see them. New York City was the industry’s production center, though there were few designated venues to show films. Most early movie venues or “houses” were hastily improvised. Often located in immigrant and working-class neighborhoods, movies were frequently shown in overcrowded rooms. There was legitimate concern about fire safety. They also became associated with illicit activities like gambling and prostitution. Social reformers pressured the city’s mayor, George McLellan, to do something.

Mayor McLellan was the son of the famous Civil War general and had first been elected at the age of 29. Near the end of his time in office, on Christmas Eve 1909, he suddenly revoked all film exhibition licenses throughout the city. The order temporarily shut down the movie business. His reasons were hazardous conditions (the celluloid film sometimes spontaneously ignited) and the degradation of community morals. It couldn’t have hurt that he had the backing of Broadway live theater owners concerned with the new competition.

Movie exhibitors fought back. Declaring their fight for freedom of speech, they formed the New York Board of Motion Picture Censorship. Ironically, they soon found the word ‘censorship’ to be too politically charged and changed their name to the National Board of Review of Motion Pictures. The organization is still around today and continues to advocate for movies as a legitimate art form to be judged on the same aesthetics as theater and literature.

Closing early venues didn’t slow the movie business. By 1914, it was estimated that over sixteen million people in the nation went to the movies every day. Elmira venues, which started showing up around 1900, reported that six thousand people attended movies every day but Sunday.

Star-Gazette June 5, 1914

Movies started featuring speaking actors, a variety of sound effects, and multiple camera angles, adding to a heightened sense of realism. They were entertainment for anyone with a little extra money in their pocket, and a welcome escape during fraught times. However, concern for the medium’s immoral influence continued to grow. In 1915, the Supreme Court ruled that films didn’t fall under free speech protection. Immediately, chapters of moral advocacy groups popped up around the nation to protect their communities. Members of these organizations included political, civic and religious leaders who advocated for the protection of public morals, especially in youth aged 15-20.

To counter, the film industry came up with its own guidelines. In 1930 industry executives established the Motion Picture Production Code, commonly known as the Hays Code. Its strict moral guidelines were written by a Catholic priest.

Popular movies in the 1930s included Walt Disney’s first animated feature film, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, at 88 minutes long, The Wizard of Oz, at 102 minutes, and Gone with the Wind, at a lengthy 222 minutes. However, communities continued to question the industry.

What, if anything, was going on in Elmira? In 1920 the local chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR) formed a motion picture committee to “promote a sentiment toward securing and patronizing better films in Elmira.” One prominent member of this group was Mrs. Charles (Lina) Swift. Swift was a practical nurse, art teacher, fierce PTA advocate, and mother of four.

In November of that year, Swift spoke at a local PTA meeting, with over 200 parents in attendance. She told them about the “patriotic, historic and educational work” the DAR was doing. She wanted to share the DAR’s alignment with the national movement “to get rid of offensive, unwholesome pictures that are shown.” She wasn’t against movies, but wanted to see control of them, and wanted the PTA’s support.

Soon the DAR committee spun off to be an active independent community group first called the Motion Picture Community Council and later the Better Film Council. Swift was appointed president. She spoke at local and national meetings. In Elmira, monthly meetings were well attended and often featured their own entertainment. At one meeting in 1935, members performed a dramatization of American history from the early days at Plymouth Colony to the present time. Other meetings held private screenings and talks by local clergy and academics. The council also endorsed movies they thought were proper.

(endorsement in lower right)

Members of the committee traveled around the state speaking and encouraging other towns and cities to start their own film oversight committees. According to local newspapers, the council had the full support of Elmira area theater managers, who pledged to work with representatives of over 40 local organizations. No doubt theater managers didn’t want to lose any business.

Colonial Movie House, Elmira. c. 1930s

By end of the 1930s, the committee's work seems to have quieted down. No more activity from the Better Film Council appears in the local newspapers, and their movie endorsements ceased. Community attention must have turned to the rumblings of impending war.

In 1952, the Supreme Court ruled again. Movies were now protected by first amendment rights. Two years later, at 70 years of age, Mrs. Swift died. She is buried in Woodlawn Cemetery.

 (Note that our next two Out to Lunch events, scheduled for noon on Dec 11 and January 8, will feature short videos from the Arts Council’s Community Documentation Workshop project)