Vermont Steampunk Hero: Happy Birthday Levi Fuller!

A Gilman Four-in-One milling machine from the collection at the amazing American Precision Museum in Windsor, VT. The only known surviving example (source here).

One hundred seventy three years ago on February 24, 1841, on a family farm in Westmoreland, New Hampshire, Levi Knight Fuller was born. A descendant of some of the earliest European settlers of New England, he landed squarely in the Victorian era, and personified the accomplishments of the Gilded Age in the United States. Fuller Steam Division is an historically grounded steampunk enterprise inspired by the life and times of this man, and is headquartered in his eventual hometown, Brattleboro, Vermont – on Fuller Drive, no less, on a remnant of his former estate.

Gov. Levi Knight Fuller 1841-1896 (bio on Wikipedia)

Let’s take a quick look at this confluence of history and popular culture: what does the life of Levi K. Fuller, a once-prominent but now largely-forgotten Vermonter, have to do with the modern-day pop culture movement dubbed steampunk? Perhaps outlining the two will produce some correlations and comparisons. Steampunk is, after all, a multi-disciplinary genre which is drawn from historical antecedent and – right there – we are off to a good start! Steampunk has been defined in many ways, some more restrictive than others (which some might say flies in the face of its fantastic potential) but for simplicity let us refer to the most widely referenced statement on the subject, by the author G.D. Falksen.

A Victorian organ steampunked into a computer command center by the master Bruce Rosenbaum of ModVic in Sharon, MA.  New England and Steampunk go together like pistons and connecting rods: see more of the regional  oeuvre by Jake von Slatt, who took this photo.

Falksen’s “What Is Steampunk?”  states summarily that Steampunk is Victorian science fiction (think of  progenitors Jules Verne and H.G. Wells), but goes on to elaborate on what that might entail today. Basically, the idiom is grounded in the industrialized 19th century, extrapolated through modern eyes and experience to an imagination of what may have been, given that setting and mentality. An alternate or speculative history can be woven from the fabric of mechanical technology, social reconstruction, expanding scientific knowledge, and grand opportunity (albeit, not for all). With such a rich and diverse heritage of inspiration to draw from,  a wide range of expression is enabled on many fronts: literature, fashion, applied technology, the fine arts, industrial design, the dramatic arts…

The Estey Organ Company complex: a National Register Historic Site on Birge St. in Brattleboro, VT Photo from FSD on Instagram

Levi Fuller was born into this time period and he epitomized many of its signature traits. A very brief enumeration: beginning a lifelong pursuit of knowledge at a very young age, he learned telegraphy and the printing trade at 13. With an early knack for science and engineering, he apprenticed with a firm in Boston at 16, returned to Brattleboro at 19 and found employment with Jacob Estey at his parlor organ manufactory. He proved his merit and rose quickly in the ranks, marrying his employer’s only daughter and becoming Vice-President of J. Estey and Co.;  an indefatigable researcher, he had over 100 patents to his credit, and amassed a considerable fortune in the process. He founded and funded the Fuller Light Battery, a local militia unit; he collected what was considered the most complete technical and scientific library in the state of Vermont, alongside the finest equatorial telescope on the East coast, at his Pine Heights mansion on a hill above the town and near the organ factory. Philanthropist and benefactor, he championed and participated in several institutions of higher learning. He was elected handily to the office of Lieutenant Governor and then Governor of Vermont, and initiated many lasting and significant innovations on behalf of his beloved State. He is credited (by William Steinway, no less) with bringing about the adoption of the world’s first standard pitch for instrument tuning. He travelled constantly, both abroad and domestically, in fulfillment of his professional and civic responsibilities, and moved in the highest circles. Well-dressed and distinguished in appearance, Fuller was everywhere and knew everyone, and seemed to have a significant impact on almost everything he touched. Sadly, his non-stop pace and devotion to duty were not sustainable and he died at the age of 55, on October 10, 1896, from overwork and exhaustion.

Bas relief portrait of Gov. Levi Knight Fuller on his grave‘s memorial marker at Morningside Cemetery on South Main St. in Brattleboro. His wife Abby Emily Estey lies beside him there.

In those 55 years of the late 19th century, he accomplished the work of several lifetimes, in an age when that scale of achievement was enabled and encouraged – a time and ethos we now celebrate in the Steampunk movement. Fuller Steam Division draws its references and personae directly from the life and times of Gov. Levi Knight Fuller and we feel this gives us a rare credence, a grounding that can deeply inform our creations and our story, crafting it from the material and archival evidence and circumstances which we uncover, both here in Brattleboro, Vermont and on the web. The word STEAM in our name is an acronym for the disciplines which Fuller pursued and from which we extrapolate with our work: Speculative Technology, Engineering, and Mechanics. We hope you will follow our adventures in Vermont Steampunk through the heritage of Levi K. Fuller. It promises to be an interesting journey!

Fuller Park and the Esteyville Bandstand

The silent bandstand at Fuller Park on a late January afternoon.

Toward the southwest corner of Brattleboro, in the center of what was and is known as Esteyville, is a small and somewhat forgotten park. Situated on a triangular lot at the intersection of Estey, Pleasant, and Chestnut Streets, Fuller Park holds a worn bandstand, an empty flagpole, a tired bench, and a half-dozen shade trees. The town’s Grand List has it pegged at .19 acres and the official address is 115 Estey Street; it’s right across the road from the diminutive Esteyville Schoolhouse, another municipal property from another time, but still in use.

The Town of Brattleboro’s facilities map shows the Esteyville properties west of Canal Street.

Also known as the Esteyville Park or Esteyville Common, its heritage as the bequest of Levi K. Fuller to the residents of the neighborhood has faded. A Google search for Fuller Park in Brattleboro turns up only a few scattered references; the other names have usurped its position in the modern landscape – the town itself (the official landholder) catalogs it as Esteyville Park. It’s still available for public use: the half-day fee is $30 or $100 depending on the entity seeking approval.

Historical photo of Estey Street looking southeast toward Maple and Canal Streets (park lot on right) from “Picturesque Brattleboro” 1894.

These residences and quiet streets are part of a large piece of land purchased by Jacob Estey in 1869, parts of the Dickinson and Rufus Clark farms; he subdivided and sold lots to his employees to build themselves homes and create a community adjacent to the organ factory, a short walk just east and downhill. Levi Knight Fuller was Estey’s son-in-law; he had entered his employ in 1860, at the age of 19 years, as a mechanical engineer and rapidly proved his worth, quickly becoming superintendent of manufacturing. He married the boss’s only daughter Abby Emily in 1865 and was made Vice-President of the firm in 1866, forming a family triumvirate with the elder Estey as President and his son, Julius J., who held the office of Treasurer. In June of 1886, Fuller, who was Lieutenant Governor of the State of Vermont by this time, in addition to his many other duties, made his gift to the people of Esteyville. According to Dennis Waring’s fascinating book ‘Manufacturing the Muse: Estey Organs and Consumer Culture in Victorian America’,  “…Fuller presented the town with an attractively landscaped park in Esteyville, which included a bandstand for the newly-formed Esteyville Brass Band.”

 

Fuller Park on Google Maps Streetview for 115 Estey Street, Brattleboro, VT.

The bandstand is one of two in the town of Brattleboro and is still used occasionally for performances. It is hexagonal in shape, with a solid foundation built of rock-faced, or rusticated, concrete block about six feet high – there’s a locked steel door into the interior under the structure’s floor. Several sources make reference to the shelter’s base as housing a fire fighting cart for the safety of the neighborhood’s homes. The smallish door, along with the fact that rock-faced block were used primarily in the early part of the twentieth century, makes one think perhaps the foundation is not original. I have found another reference to the existence of a large cistern, again for fire fighting purposes (the park is uphill from the factory buildings on Birge Street) near or under the bandstand; the disposition of this reservoir has yet to be determined.

The bandstand, flagpole, and bench at Fuller Park in January, 2014.

Oddly enough, there are no stairs leading up to the bandstand’s floor and no breaks in the simple white railing which encloses the six sides, connecting columns which hold up a beaded wood ceiling and the slate and metal roof. A narrow band of dentil molding pairs with the simple Doric columns and a heavy cornice to effect a simple Greek Revival style; empty light bulb sockets punctuate the underside of the cornice – it must have been a cheery, bright sight when they were all lit for an evening concert. The construction is nearly identical to the one other such edifice in town, the Blanche Honegger Moyse Bandstand on the Town Common, just north of the downtown district; this begs the speculation that perhaps the Fuller Park bandstand was substantially rebuilt at the same time the other was erected. Any further information will be added here as it’s uncovered! And there will be more on Esteyville, I am sure, as well as many other interesting encounters in Brattleboro history and the life of Levi Knight Fuller.

 

Quotidian Steampunk: Brass Plant Mister

Third in a series of everyday encounters, iPhone in hand, with items that elicit a steampunk’d reaction. A celebration of materials, honest mechanics, longevity, and a tactile attraction… The antithesis of disposably-priced, short-lived, flimsily-manufactured, and blindly-operated “stuff.”

Today’s subject is a simple hand-held houseplant humidifying device (not a brass “plant”, mister…): refillable, thumb-pumped, all-brass construction, task-oriented and obviously with a few years under its screw cap. The metal patinas over the years; the piston cylinder tips a bit from the pressure of many a thrust; the sides gain a dent or two – but it keeps going. If it leaks or stops spraying, it can be repaired. If it’s not needed for the moment, it sits in repose, gleaming in the sunlight with its handle and nozzle arcing gracefully as the houseplants it dutifully services. A paen, no doubt, to utilitarianism but a pleasingly simple and effective example. It’s not that hard to do things well. What are your preferences?

Extension Announced: Steampunk Springfield Submissions

A teaser for Bruce Rosenbaum’s personal contribution – dubbed Humachines – to next year’s Steampunk Springfield exhibition?

It has just come to our attention this morning (while stumbling through the aetherwebs) that the deadline for artist submissions for the upcoming grand exposition “Steampunk Springfield: ReImagining an Industrial City” has been extended at the last minute to November 22, 2013. We can throttle back on the power feed to the Time Machine and fall back on real time. Whew ! *puff of steam* Notice was discerned on the Fuller Steam Division’s Facebook feed from ModVic and Steampuffin, curator Bruce Rosenbaum’s inestimable steampunk enterprise in Sharon, Massachusetts. A quick jaunt to the fine print on the host’s site, Springfield Museums, confirmed the news. A toast (never too early, we say – what? it was just green Juicy Juice…) was raised to our imminent good fortune and we returned to the workshop bench here in Brattleboro, Vermont somewhat strengthened in our resolve.

Anyone else joining in? Tell all your New England compatriots and co-conspirators. It’s going to be a sight sure to fog your goggles. Mark your chronometers and set your airship auto-pilot to the proper coordinates:  North 42° 6′ 17.16″, West 72° 35′ 9.55″. Arrivals tethered from March 22nd til September 28, 2014.

Steampunk, Meet Dieselpunk: Happy Birthday Raymond Loewy

Raymond Loewy poses on the pilot cowling of his modified PRR K4s, shadowed by its true inner self on the track behind.

Disclaimer: we’re well aware this may appear to fall under the purview of Dieselpunk, rather than Steampunk, but underneath Raymond Loewy’s glorious steel shrouding ticked and hissed the polished pistons and connecting rods of a mighty steam-driven locomotive.  Just sayin’.

History is one of those things that happens when you’re not looking. We often don’t have the perspective to understand what may be unfolding – right in front of one’s eyes – until afterward (sometimes significantly so), when a context and a critical mass has been established. A pundit or two takes analytical stab at it and names the events or trends or movements, and we can say “Ah, that was in the the golden era of the Steam Age” or “straight out of the Roaring Twenties” or “it was a remnant of the last days of Colonialism.” On top of that, there’s the axiomatic observation “History repeats itself:” perhaps a result of the former myopia or, more often,  in spite of it. Add in the cyclic caprices of fashion and popular culture and you have a perfect retro-future generator. The Pennsylvania Railroad found a master practitioner in the person of legendary industrial designer Raymond Loewy: his 120th birthday (1893-1986) was yesterday, November 5th. Google featured this observation in their Doodle on the search engine’s start page.

The Pennsylvania Railroad’s K4s in street clothes at Altoona, 1937.

The K4s before and after Loewy’s Cinderella act. Nicely executed!

Loewy was hired to help the Pennsylvania Railroad recast themselves as an appealingly modern, efficient, and superior mode of transportation (the rise of the private automobile was seriously affecting revenues) and, especially, a better choice over competitors such as the New York Central, which was waging its own image-remake battle. A designer, not an engineer, Raymond Loewy gave Pennsy’s motive power an eye-catching makeover. Eager to show the traveling public their embrace of the post-Depression, forward-looking Streamline Era, the first to get the “treatment” was the Pacific K4s class, the workhorse of the roundhouse stable and generally considered one of the greatest steam locomotives of all time. Number 3768 was the lucky duckling chosen for the swan costume: it was dubbed the “Torpedo” but underneath that sleek, swept steel jacket was the same old drive train, linkages, firebox, and boiler that powered these dependable and prolific beasts. Eventually, all of the streamlined units were stripped of their glamorous sheaths and they went back to service in work-clothes, and finally to the scrapheap. There are only two examples of the once plentiful K4 Class remaining: No. 3750 is on display at the Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania in Strasburg; No. 1361 was set to be restored to operation by the Railroaders Memorial Museum in Altoona through the restoration shop at Steamtown National Historic Site in Scranton, PA (and not too long ago in Bellows Falls, VT –  just 25 miles up the track from Fuller Steam Division in Brattleboro, VT).  The restoration has been stalled for now and the loco lies in pieces on the shop floor.

The New York Central’s reworked No. 54 Hudson locomotive shows a powerful, muscular profile.

A heart of steam and a love for the beauty of the mechanical: one of the attributes of the Steampunk movement, of course. But to some minds, it runs a bit deeper than just shroudings upon the machine; not just an iconic industrial designer’s skin-deep take on a quotidian industrial application, not just a retro-future costume at a convention center near you. There’s something more about the attraction of this still-growing phenomenon that sparks an identification with an honesty of construction, an intrinsically explicit demonstration of purpose, and a realm of possibility, if not actuality. Steampunk has a bit of the neo-Luddite wrapped up in its DNA and this aspect would bear further scrutiny: others more qualified have done so already, and hopefully we’ll take a look at them in future views from the Observatory.