The Maine Lobsterman [1/15/2013]

       

[proof]: Portland's Lobsterman Sculpture

When I started my site visits on a rather warm January afternoon, I wanted to learn about the monuments that hid [ever so prominently] in Portland's backdrop. The Maine Lobsterman was the first sculpture that entered my mind. I have fading childhood memories of my dad making me read the bronze plaques while we walked through the Old Port-- and every time we passed the lobsterman, he would pause and gaze (for what seemed like far too long). As I approached the Lobsterman sculpture, there was not a soul in the surrounding area, nor really anything for that matter. The park was spotless with the exception of a few scattered patches of snow and a banana peel so appropriately laid to rest like a lobster.

A lobster shaped banana peel

Despite the sunshine, ample outdoor seating spaces, and its location in the hub of downtown, the Lobsterman sculpture was oddly undisturbed-- it was one of the first times I had seen the area so empty. When I approached the Lobsterman ten years later, and without my father, I spent a significant amount of time staring at the bronze face of a hardworking lobsterman before reading the plaque "The Maine Lobsterman/ By Victor Kahill/ for the World's Fair AD 1939/placed in this public square/ by the Portland City Council AD 1977." At first I appreciated the simple, vague description of such an iconic Maine sculpture, but after realizing that there were more words that described how the statue ended up outside the Nickelodeon then how it represents Maine character (which perhaps can go unsaid?) I ended up with mixed feelings.

The Maine Lobsterman sculpture, outside of the Nickelodeon, is one of three Maine Lobsterman sculptures in the world. The others reside on Bailey's Island and in Augusta-- until its 1979 move to Maine Ave. in Washington DC.  Today's Lobsterman sculptures are only reconstructions of the original. The state of Maine sought out Victor Kahill, a Lebanese immigrant, to capture the spirit of Maine via sculpture. He crafted the original lobsterman sculpture for the 1939 World's fair in New York. His project ran out of funding, and he had to abandon the idea of casting his sculpture in bronze. Ultimately, he constructed the Maine Lobsterman using plaster, which he then painted bronze. After its limelight at the World's Fair and then further display in the city of Portland, the plaster started to deteriorate and it was stored in a warehouse for the duration. In 1973, funds the Maine legislation appropriated $30,000 for three bronze castings of Kahill's lobsterman. 

But who was Kahill's lobsterman? Elroy Johnson was a Harpswell fisherman, who was known as a boisterous spokesperson for the fishing community. He frequented meetings in Augusta, and was hired as a Maritime consultant under Governor Edward Muskie’s lead. Although “Johnson was not elected by his peers to pose for the sculpture” Muskie affirms “that had there been an election held among the fishermen of Maine in 1939, he would have been chosen” (Bangor Daily News). While it seems as though Maine fishermen unanimously supported Johnson, there was not such unified support for Kahill’s interpretation of Johnson in his sculpture. Maine fisherman disagreed with Kahill’s choice of dress, arguing that Johnson should have been captured wearing a  sou’wester. In addition, they thought that Johnson should have been standing, instead of kneeling, while he pegged the lobster. And finally, they were disappointed that Johnson’s dog, Bruin, was not part of the sculpture. Perhaps less for their genuine affection for Bruin, and moreso their desire to represent Maine lobsterman in a more accurate light—which obviously includes showing off one’s boat dog. Most interestingly, the state of Maine seemed to regret excluding Bruin, and upon the unveiling of the statue, issued the dog a bona fide lobster license. Welcome to politics in Maine.  

Sources:

http://www.workingwaterfront.com/articles/Maine-Lobsterman-Memorial-to-Remain-on-Washington-DC-Waterfront/14801

Abyssinian Church [1/15/13]

Several days after the start of classes, I decided to get a jump on long-term assignments. So on a cold Tuesday afternoon, I ventured into the city of Portland with the intent to learn about the monuments my parents tried to teach me about as a young child (and my brother and I would stay quiet and tune them out dreaming of Beal’s ice cream). After visiting the Maine Lobsterman, the statue in Monument Square, and the Little Watering Girl, I stopped by Coffee By Design on India Street to refuel. I left CBD and walked up Newbury St. on my way to the East End. I have walked this route hundreds of times in the past few years, passing what I now know as the Abyssinian Church each time. I would remember thinking that the white, plain, abandoned building was almost an eyesore, and furthermore why were there so few windows on a street that receives an abundance of sunlight? Like so many others walk by.

[proof]: A shard of metal
from the side yard. 

            However, today as I walked passed the big, white, eerie building I noticed a bronze plaque and decided to read it: “The Abyssinian Church, 73 Newbury Street, was the major hub for the Underground Railroad in Maine and became the social center for Portland’s African American community.” And just like that, the lack of windows made a little more sense. I had stumbled upon a golden opportunity for another site visit (other Newbury Street walkers were disappointed to find out that I hadn’t just won the lottery). I wandered around the left side of the building into a dirt side yard scattered with small tools and shards of metal. The first story windows were boarded up, and there was no hope of peeping inside. After a final unanswered knock on the front door, I concluded that the building was empty, and whatever construction was happening, was not happening today. As I did one more loop around the church, I realized that the Underground Railroad was not a mythical invention on fifth grade textbooks, nor has Portland always been a city of white sailors and lumberjacks. My curiosity about the building was peaked.

            After a quick Google search, I discovered the “Abyssinian Restoration Project” whose mission statement extended beyond “the restoration, historic preservation and maintenance of the historic building known as the Abyssinian Meeting House” to include “the preservation and promotion of the cultural heritage of African-Americans in Maine.” Reuben Ruby, Portland’s leading abolitionist, provided the land, and the African American community pooled their funds to build the church. Maine’s first Black church was completed in 1829.  In 1836 a feud between Ruby and the Abyssinian Religious Society erupted over costs. In the court case Rueben Ruby vs. Abyssinian Religious Society of Portland, Ruby sues the society for the mortgage and internal improvements on the building that he's footed the bill for. Ruby is compensated for his debts. Despite financial setbacks, as the anti-slavery movement heightened, the Abyssinian Church became a place of refuge and political activity. In 1841, Reverend Amos N. Freeman joined the Abyssinian Church as the first full-time minister. According the Freedom Trail, Freeman was the “most well know African American in the state.”

          In part the Meeting House experienced so much success as a URR site because of the demographics and geography of Portland. In 1850 there were 400 freed Blacks living in Portland, and 67 of them were listed as mariners. The freed Black population in Portland, who had a variety of ways to smuggle slaves via land and ocean, also had a safe nearby place to hide them-- the Abyssinian Meeting House. In addition to favorable geography, the famed African AMerican abolitionists such as Ruby and Freeman attracted a wider national abolitionist movement to Maine. The Abyssinian Church boasts an impressive repertoire of speakers from Frederick Douglass to Sojourner Truth. In 1866 when the Great Fire swept through Portland, the Abyssinian Meeting House was unharmed thanks to Reuben Ruby's son, William Wilberforce Ruby. By the turn of the twentieth century the Abyssinian Meeting House was no longer the hub of African American heritage and culture it once was. The Green Memorial AME Zion Church filled this void.  

            The Abyssinian Meeting House is critical to understanding Maine's diverse history. It serves as a reminder that there was not just North and South, Yankees and slaveowners, white abolitionists and Black slaves. It is also a crucial wake-up call to the way we teach our students about local history. How did I grow up three miles away from the Abyssinian Meeting House and only ever imagined a city full of White people?

Sources:

The Freedom Trail Packet

Visible Black History

John Calvin Stevens' Home [1/15/2013 & 3/27/2013]

John Calvin Stevens’ home was the last stop on my initial ambitious sweep of Portland. After wandering all over Portland, in no orderly fashion at all, I crossed town one final time to end up at 52 Bowdoin Street on the West End—the personal residence of John Calvin Stevens. The house was magnificent: shingle styled, gambrel roof, earth tone colored, and grandeur in stature. There were two cars in the driveway that hid behind the left side of the house: a Subaru and an old pick up truck. Instead of knocking on the door, which I feared would be rude, I sat on the sidewalk taking notes (and an awkward, maybe legal picture) in hopes that the current residents would come out and chat… no such luck. 

http://www.friendsofevergreen.
org/evergreen-cemetery/maps/

Several months later, in March I completed the second half of my John Calvin Stevens’ investigation. I visited his gravesite in Evergreen cemetery on March 27, 2013. Thanks to the Friends of Evergreen’s helpful visitor map, I was able to stumble upon his grave with relative ease. There are four graves that border a dirt road, first is John Calvin Stevens, then his wife Martha, his mother Maria, and finally his father Leander. Behind the elderly Stevens are two of his four children. I was amazed that such a successful, well-known man had such a simple gravestone. I’m not sure whether it speaks to his character, financial scene, or the fact that he passed away as the US was emerging from the Great Depression.

John Calvin Stevens (1910)

John Calvin Stevens was born on October 8, 1855 in Boston, MA, however became a Portland resident at the age of two. He was born to Leander Stevens and Maria Wingate; Maria was a homemaker and Leander was a cabinet maker. Stevens developed a love of art in his youth and had high ambitions of attending Massachusetts Institute of Technology, but due to financial restraints, opted to apprentice with Portland architect, Francis H. Fassett, instead. After only seven years of apprenticeship, Stevens became a full partner in Fassett’s firm. In 1880, he relocated to open a branch of the firm in Boston where he was introduced to William Ralph Emerson (Ralph Waldo Emerson’s cousin). William Ralph Emerson introduced the “shingle style” home to Stevens, for which he later made his claim to fame. In 1884, Emerson’s lead draftsman, Albert W. Cobb, joined Stevens in opening their own firm in Portland—Cobb and Stevens or Stevens and Cobb (listed both ways).

            Stevens designed approximately four hundred buildings in Portland and also had a substantial repertoire in Bath, ME. From the start of his career, Stevens focused on producing “shingle style homes” known for their wooden shingle siding, gambrel roofs, towers, large front porches, and open floor plans—these houses made the perfect vacation homes for Maine’s summer population or fraternity houses (Bowdoin’s Psi Upsilon, or Quinby House). However, “shingle style homes” were no Stevens only specialty. At the turn of the twentieth century, Stevens refocused his work on colonial revival style buildings. After nearly 70 years as an architect, John Calvin Stevens passed away in 1940.

           

His love of art never subsided, and he was an active member of the “Brushians” a local group of Maine artists. He also designed several buildings for the Homer family, including Winslow Homer’s own studio, for which he received the painting titled: “The Artist’s Studio in the Afternoon Fog.”

            John Calvin Stevens, though not a Mainer by birth, represents the Maine work ethic and entrepreneurship any Mainer would be proud of. He contributed significantly to the City of Portland’s character and aesthetics.

Sources:

http://www.coastaljournal.com/website/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=1481:jo..

http://www.friendsofevergreen.org/evergreen-cemetery/maps/

www.mainememory.net/

Monument Square [1/15/2013]

The south face of the Monument:
three sailors prepared for war

Monument Square was the the focal point of my “rediscovering Portland” adventure. It was just past noon, and Monument Square was unusually quiet. I was expecting the hustle and bustle of lunchtime foot traffic, perhaps a protest, or some sidewalk tunes, but instead I found a young couple enjoying each other’s company on a nearby bench. It in the center of the square stood the giant, unnamed statue, looming over me (with an emerging sense of shame that I had cared so little as a kid about Portland’s defining landmarks). It was clean, and appeared well cared for, as a plastic fence was appropriated to keep kids from playing on it, or protect it from careless snow removal?  

The first thing that struck me about the statue was the large, silver letters on the west façade: “PORTLAND/ FOR HER SONS THAT DIED FOR THE UNION.” Miles ahead of my eight year old, swimming-lesson-anxious self, I realized that towering, granite, nameless monument celebrated Portland’s contributions in the Civil War.

On the south façade, stood three uniformed sailors, one held a gun while the others others sported nautical garb. On the north façade, stood three soldiers in uniform with their weapons at ease. In case I had any doubt about the monument’s relevance to the Civil War, the east façade was decorated with a plaque. In easy-to-read lettering it read: “1861-1865 Over 4,000 men were enrolled from Portland in the Army and Navy for the war of rebellion. more than 300 were killed in battle or died in service. Honor and grateful remembrance to the dead, and equal honor to those, who daring to die, survived.” I got chills [insert cheese] reading the backside of the monument, realizing that Portland’s contributions to the Civil War were tangible. Other than the illustrious Chamberlain, I had never thought about Maine’s involvement in the Civil War, nevertheless Portland’s. Aside from the practicality of numerical information, this description incredibly titles the Civil war: the war of rebellion, displaying a very northern paternalistic attitude—and genius linguistic skills. The last phrase is also reverently written to support the survivors in addition to those lost because of the war.

After returning home, I made two invaluable discoveries: 1) googling Maine civil war monuments is asking for it—there are apparently many civil war monuments in the state of Maine and 2) the statue has not one, but two names: Our Lady of Victories and/or The Soldiers and Sailors Monument.

The statue was designed and constructed by Maine’s own Franklin Simmons and New York’s Richard Hunt. Simmons created the bronze sculptures of the solders, sailors, and Our Lady of Victories, while Hunt designed the granite base. To represent the culmination of war efforts, Simmons adopted the Roman goddess of war and wisdom, Minerva. He topped his soldiers and sailors sculptures with a war goddess of his own. The statue was installed from 1889 and was completed by 1891. Formerly known as Market St. Square, the home of the new monument, fittingly came to be called Monument Square. In 1899, the old City Hall was torn down in Monument Sq. to allow more space for foot traffic.  Monument Square has since become a historical and cultural centerpiece for the city of Portland. 

Sources:

http://www.pressherald.com/archive/walking-the-historic-district_2009-06-26.html

http://www.maine.gov/civilwar/monuments/portlandmonument.html

http://www.mainememory.net/artifact/16498

The Little Water Girl [1/15/2013]

I heard about the Little Water Girl sculpture last year in Polly Kaufman's class: History of US Environmentalism. Polly raved about the Little Water Girl, declaring it her favorite sculpture in Portland. I remember her jokingly telling us that the sculpture, whom she referred to as "she," was being moved inside of the new library to resolve prior "urination issues." After Polly's exciting introduction, I decided to incorporate the Little Water Girl into my site visits.

[proof]: The Little Water Girl Sculpture in the entrance of
the Portland Public Library

I had been to the Portland Public Library several times since the new renovations, and had failed to acknowledge the spouting sculpture that greets you on the way in. But on this January afternoon, as I welcomed the warm reprieve of the library, I instantly noticed the Little Water Girl. It was about noon time when I entered the library and the library's cafe area was crowded with people eating their lunches, reading the paper, or listening to music and attempting to sleep. The Little Water Girl was not the focal point. I stood in front of her and listened to the water fall. If I was only ten years younger I would've stuck my hands under the water or flipped a coin in her basin. But taking into account my age (and expected maturity), I crouched down to read the plaque that adorns her base, and received a few awkward looks from library goers-- which only intensified when I posed for a picture with her (hence the poor lighting in this photo. I was not about to pose for a second time). 

While the library patrons seemed rather unenthused about the Little Water Girl Sculpture, the library staff beamed with pride. The reference desk ladies, who had a lull in their day, spoke reverently about the sculpture sharing their joy that the Water Girl was on public display in a safe space. They suggested visiting the Portland Room to learn more about Lillian M. N. Stevens. 

Ode to the Portland Room-- which should be its own site visit. I was greeted by the Portland Room's research librarian who had me sign in and then inquired about my academic interests. I briefly discussed my site visit project and interest in Lillian Stevens, which ultimately led to a tangent on Mexican convents... and poor Lillian Stevens was neglected to the simple title of “a proud Mainer!”

Needless to say, further research was done at home. The Little Water Girl statue that resides in Portland's newly renovated library was originally donated to the city by the Women's Christian Temperance Union in 1917. She was on display in Deering Oaks Park until 1979 where she moved to the Portland Public Library. The Little Water Girl spent the next thirty years in a insecure, fenced off courtyard as an object of vandalism (so I suppose Polly's urination hypothesis is not a terrible stretch). She is one of four Little Water Girl statues donated by the WCTU; the others are on display in London, Detroit, and Chicago. However Chicago's Little Water Girl was stolen. When the public library was undergoing renovations, they loaned the Little Water Girl to the city of Chicago so they could create a mold and recast her as a statue for themselves. The Little Water Girl made her return to the library after renovations had been completed and now boasts the functioning fountain in the entrance way. 

The Little Water Girl statue celebrates Maine's own Lillian  Ames Stevens. She was an avid human rights worker who dedicated majority of her efforts to prohibition. Stevens was born on March 1st, 1844 and passed away on April 6th, 1914. She married Michael T. Stevens who supported her lifelong activism and even hired a governess to care for their daughter so Stevens could work. She was the president of the Maine Women's Christian Temperance Union from 1878 until her passing in 1914. Most notable, Stevens was the 2nd president of the forerunning national prohibition organization: the Women's Christian Temperance Union. Under her reign, six states in addition to all military bases accepted prohibition. Stevens was also a suffragist, child labor activist, and was responsible for some of Maine's first women's shelters. She was a model Mainer, to say the least and the Little Water Girl statue celebrates her activist spirit in the forefront of a beloved public space. 

Sources:

http://www.pressherald.com/life/audience/water-girl-assumes-her-place-of-honor_2010-04-11

http://www.portlanddailysun.me/index.php/opinion/columns/8890-the-little-water-girl

http://dll.umaine.edu/historytrail/site12.html