e-Newsletter | March 3, 2023
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Caroline C. Cottrell (1856-1918) - Part 2
by Kristen Fehlhaber, Assistant Director
In Part 1, Caroline C. Cottrell’s life was traced from her birth in 1856, enslaved in North Carolina, to her move to Chattanooga, Tennessee. She arrived in Newburyport in 1884 and would remain here the rest of her life, working for the Morrill family. She died in 1918 and is buried with the Morrills in Amesbury, MA. We last left her in 1886, holding baby Gayden Morrill. Read Caroline C. Cottrell, Part 1
A search of the newspaper archives shows that when Gayden was 9, he and his mother visited Chattanooga. Caroline likely traveled with them to care for the boy, as a nanny might travel today with family.
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Chattanooga Daily Times, 28 Apr 1895
If she went along, she had the chance to visit her own family. Caroline’s mother Martha was still alive at age 65. Her brother Albert had married Minnie Lee Shropshire (born in Georgia, another newcomer to bustling Chattanooga) and by this time, Caroline had two nieces and a nephew. Young Gayden might have met Carrie (named after Caroline), age 11, Alberta (named after her father), age 9, and Lawrence (named after Caroline’s father, whose fate is unknown), age 7.
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Photo from near the time of the trip to Chattanooga. On back: "To Aunt Caroline - From Gayden Morrill." |
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L to R, Caroline's mother, Martha; Caroline; and her brother, Albert. Images of Martha and Albert courtesy of John Miller.
A family tree on Ancestry.com was filled with wonderful photographs of Albert Cottrell and his family. I contacted the owner of this tree, great-grand-nephew John Miller, a filmmaker in Tacoma, WA, and asked if he might know anything about Caroline. She was in his tree, but only with a birth year from the 1880 census. He didn't know about her time in Newburyport but he said he’d take a look in the family papers he’d gotten from Caroline’s niece, Carrie. I soon got this email from John:
I decided to pull out the Cottrell family Bible to see if I could learn anything about Caroline's birth date. While thumbing through it to find the records section, something fell from between the pages. It was this postcard from Caroline to Carrie (Cottrell) Hamilton. I've been in possession of this Bible for 12 years and had never seen this before. (We can both call that a Twilight Zone moment.)
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Newburyport, MA - March 10, 1913
Dear Carrie, I want to thank you for the nice letter you sent me sometime ago. I will it answer soon. We are having spring-like weather and it makes me think of coming home. I want you to write me a long letter telling me all about your Sunday school class and the church. Tell Alberta I expect a card from her once a week. Give all the folks my love and let me hear from you soon. Your aunt C.C.C.
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From this one note, we learn that almost 30 years after leaving Chattanooga, Caroline remained connected to her nieces and family. We hear that the church was important to her and that she was thinking of coming home. For a visit or permanently? Niece Carrie was a teacher, graduating from high school in 1904 (with a special course in Latin noted on her diploma) and at the time of the postcard, was a year away from receiving her Bachelor of Arts in Pedagogy from Oskaloosa College. It’s easy to imagine that Aunt Caroline might have helped financially, as family members often do, but we just don’t know. |
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All of Caroline's nieces got their high school diplomas from the Howard School , Chattanooga's oldest public school. From top left, Carrie, Alberta, Lawrence and Anita Cottrell. All images from John Miller.
John looked through old documents and photos, all unlabeled, hoping for another clue. Although he had known all of his great aunts well, he’d never heard stories about their Aunt Caroline. He found a photo and described it as showing a Black woman sitting with two white women, all in servants’ uniforms.
Was this Caroline and was it in Newburyport? Yes it was - a look at the Morrill Place photo album showed the same porch. MOON board member Lois Valeo dated the photo to 1900-1910, before the postcard. The woman leaning on Caroline might be Margaret Reardon, the Irish servant who worked with her for over ten years.
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Caroline Cottrell at 209 High St, Newburyport. Possibly with Margaret Reardon. The other servant and child might be a part of Gayden’s half-sister's family. Image of Caroline courtesy of John Miller.
It’s important to note that Caroline sent this photo home - this is how she wanted her family to see her. It is a moment of happiness and friendship in this far-away northern city.
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Time passed. The once-young Gayden grew up, attended college in Virginia, returned home and married Margaret Nutter Dodge in 1911. They still lived at 209 High Street with Gayden’s parents. A son, Frank, was born in 1912 and a daughter, Margaret, in 1915. Caroline is still alive and working for the Morrills at this time. Was she still working as much as she used to? With room and board covered by her job, was she able to save money? Local historian Jean Foley Doyle tells a story that when Newburyport’s Irish servants were asked how they’d been able to save hundreds of dollars, they had a simple answer: By not spending it. Maybe Caroline did the same.
Soon after the birth of Gayden’s daughter, Caroline lost weight and began to not feel well. She died of stomach cancer on her birthday, March 12, 1918, age 62 (though her grave stone indicates age 58). This late photo of her was among Gayden Morrill’s possessions. The Morrills sent word to Tennessee after Caroline died.
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The last photo of Caroline C. Cottrell; image courtesy of Jim Morrill. She is buried in in Amesbury with the Morrills; image courtesy of Ghlee Woodworth. |
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From the Cottrell family Bible (see top of page). Image courtesy John Miller.
No expense was spared for her funeral. Jim Morrill provided us with the bill from Funeral Director Dr. Robert McKinney. The total was $208 (about $4,100 today). Three carriages were hired to carry the family from their home to Oak Hill Cemetery. Because it was winter, her casket went in the receiving tomb there until she could be buried in Amesbury. The final bill was dated May 1, 1918 and ten days later, 70 year-old Frank F. Morrill was in Chattanooga, staying at the Hotel Patten and settling Caroline’s estate with her brother. Thirty-four years after Caroline acted as witness to his marriage, Frank Morrill returned to Tennessee to deliver her belongings to her family.
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Receipt for Estate of Caroline C. Cottrell, written by Frank Morrill, signed by her brother and heir Albert B. Cottrell, and witnessed Caroline's sister-in-law and niece. Images courtesy of Jim Morrill.
...The following personal effects and property, constitute her entire estate: viz: 2 trunks containing wearing apparel and small articles, used in her room The said trunks were opened and repacked by “Maggie,” my sister’s close friend and housemate for years, and Gayden W. Morrill. These two alone, by her expressed directions, had charge of the trunks. The value of the trunks is not in excess of one hundred Dollars.
In the trunks, the two named above found and removed for safe keeping, in view of the railroad journey to Chattanooga, Tenn, cash and securities as follows: viz:
In gold $21.25, In Currency $62, 5 United States 4% Liberty Bonds of $500 par value each, or in amount $2500...
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This amazing document tells us of Caroline’s legacy - she sent home $2,583.25 - worth over $50,000 today. We don’t know what effect that transfer of wealth had on the Cottrell family, but it had to have an impact. Two decades later, it may have helped allow John Miller’s mother (Caroline’s great-niece) to attend college. The document speaks to Caroline's trust and friendship with friend Maggie Reardon and ongoing closeness to Gayden Morrill. |
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We will end this story with the photos that started it in Part I. An initial question was “Who took these photos?” I would put my money on Gayden. In the first photo, from the edge of the kitchen, he caught Caroline off-guard. I can imagine him being told to retake the photo, but only after she gathered her papers and composed herself. Gayden kept both photos and put them together in an album. Much much later, that album was given to the Museum of Old Newbury for safe keeping. For that, and so much more, we are grateful.
With special thanks to John Miller and Jim Morrill for their time and willingness to share documents and photos relating to Caroline. Additional thanks to Mary Haslinger, Bob Morrill, Sharon Spieldenner, Ghlee Woodworth, and Geordie Vining.
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We were saddened to learn of the passing of Al Clifford, 76, past President of the Museum of Old Newbury (then known as the Historical Society of Old Newbury). Al was a well-known real estate developer and owner of the Compass Rose Inn and Clark Currier Inn. He died on February 13th at Anna Jaques Hospital surrounded by his family. A celebration of life will take place on Friday, March 3, His full obituary can be read at the Daily News.
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General Benjamin Franklin Butler: A Noisy, Fearless Life
Thursday, April 20, 2023, 7 pm
Museum of Old Newbury, 98 High Street, Newburyport
“Butler’s toothpick” is the somewhat derisive nickname given to the maritime navigational tower on the Salisbury coast named after lawyer, Civil War general, US congressman, and Massachusetts governor Benjamin Franklin Butler. In her new biography of Butler, historian Elizabeth Leonard explains how and why Butler’s name has been tangled for so long with disdainful epithets, most famously, “Beast Butler,” a nickname derived from his martial governance of New Orleans during the Civil War. Leonard presents a fuller, fairer, and more nuanced portrait of Butler, tracing his rise from an impoverished childhood to a successful legal practice, including his advocacy for the rights of Lowell Mill girls; to a US Army general sternly enforcing federal authority and advancing wartime emancipation measures; to an accomplished political career in both Washington and Massachusetts, in the course of which he consistently used his influence to advocate for Black American freedom and civil rights and to oppose the neo-Confederate resurgence and white nationalism. In this talk, Leonard will present the case for Butler's rehabilitation.
Elizabeth D. Leonard is Colby College's Gibson Professor of History, Emerita. She has written seven books on the Civil War-era including: Yankee Women: Gender Battles in the Civil War; All the Daring of the Soldier: Women of the Civil War Armies; and Lincoln’s Forgotten Ally: Judge Advocate General Joseph Holt of Kentucky, which was named co-winner of the Gilder Lehrman Lincoln Prize in 2012. Free for members, $10 for non-members.
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Fashion Night Out: Girls' Style from the Civil War to 1900
Thursday, May 11, 2023, 6:30 pm
Museum of Old Newbury, 98 High Street, Newburyport
The definite side show while attending your annual Christmas Nutcracker performance is surely all the little girls in velvet, taffeta and lace. Their special attire indicates they are ready for the magical experience. The Nutcracker fashion parade has endured since Tchaikovsky wrote it in 1892! Throughout fashion history parents have always enjoyed dressing up their little girls, usually in the prevailing style of their mothers.
Join Costume Historian Lois Valeo at another Fashion Night Out on May 11. Little Girls' style from the Civil War to 1900 is included in the illustrated talk. Take a peek at the Museum’s impressive collection of Little Girls' dresses. Enjoy a nostalgic look back at fads and trends that ebbed and flowed with the changing social times. And visit with the long-ago bow-clad fashionable little ladies whose cuteness delighted us at every twirl. Free for members, $10 for non-members.
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Save the date:
John Forti, The Heirloom Gardner - May 18, 7pm (tickets available soon)
2023 Garden Tour - June 10 & 11, 10am -4pm (tickets available soon)
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Woman on the MOON
...a blog by Bethany Groff Dorau, Executive Director
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Hidden in Plain Sight
I did not set out to study women’s history. I did not set out to study history at all. I was an English major, hoping to make it as a writer of…well, that part wasn’t so clear. It wasn’t until that fateful GenEd class at UMass Amherst with Dr. Vincent Ilardi, the Renaissance Optics specialist (his groundbreaking book, Renaissance Vision from Spectacles to Telescopes was surprisingly readable), that I fell deep and hard for history.
Much to Dr. Ilardi’s sorrow, however, his passion for Italian eyewear eluded me. I found myself drawn, as many of us are, to areas of study that connect to our lives. History of the Reformation? Yes, please. I was raised in a Calvinist Protestant world. Crime and Punishment in Victorian England? I read Dickens voraciously. Come on in. I broadened my horizons, took courses with Dr. Yvonne Haddad in Islamic and Middle Eastern history. I went to Imperial Russia, joined the World War, and spent one breathless semester helping Stephen B Oates unpack every prevailing theory about the assassination of John F. Kennedy. Oh, those were heady times.
I was not initially drawn to women's history, despite its obvious connection to my experience. It was regularly offered at UMass in the early 1990’s. There was an entire Women’s Studies department. Though a strong-willed young woman myself, committed to being the captain of my own ship, I had bought into the pernicious idea that history was a set, established set of facts, albeit facts that could be relayed in a dynamic way, and if those facts were relayed by men, to men, and from an overwhelmingly male perspective, that must be just because that was the way it happened. Women were not on battlefields (they were). They were not political leaders, or inventors, or great philosophers (again, they were) …you get the point. The saddest element of this early part of my history education is that I did not even notice that, by and large, the lives of women were not represented in my history books and classes, and if they were, they were in the sidebar, or the exception that proved the rule.
Then, one blessed day, I met Dr. Joyce Avrech Berkman. I think her Intro to Women’s History course met a requirement for the major. Joyce (I can get away with this familiarity today because we are old friends) had long, gray hair in a loose braid over her shoulder. She laughed a lot, easily, but the coursework was challenging, and her standards were high. She was a veteran activist by the time we met and had been one of the chief advocates for the founding of the Women’s Studies program at UMass in 1974.
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Dr. Joyce Berkman enjoying a Fowle’s lunch on a visit to Newburyport in 2021.
I think it was her description of British voting-rights activist Emily Wilding Davison throwing herself under the galloping hooves of the King’s horse in 1913, the force-feeding of Quaker suffragist Alice Paul, the desperation and courage of the women on hunger strikes and in picket lines. It was the fact that a married woman could be thrown out of her own house by her husband, denied contact with her children, even deprived of her clothing because nothing she had was hers – because she did not exist as a legal person. It was the vitriol heaped on women who spoke out. Our own Newburyport Daily News had this to say in 1915 about the idea that a woman could exist (and vote) as an individual.
“If she votes differently (from her husband), then the family ceases to come in contact with the state as a unit, and we have the individual and not the family as the unit of society, which is one of the cardinal principles of feminism. And so, I contend that the only consistent suffragist is the socialist and the feminist, because they believe the result of women suffrage will be to destroy the family…”
In the rare air of Amherst, I followed the well-trod path from surprise, to outrage, to sorrow, to awareness. And when I got to awareness, I began to see women everywhere in the historical record, where before they – we – had been invisible to me. They did not only appear as passive victims or warriors against male oppression, either. They often made themselves known in subtle ways, their lives revealed in whispers, easily drowned out by the shouting biographies of powerful men. Sometimes they had been shouting too, but nobody had been writing it down.
When I left academia and the sheltering wing of Joyce Berkman and others like her, I found myself drawn to historic house museums in part because it is so much easier to talk about women in the spaces where most people expect to find them. And still, I remember giving a tour of Coffin House soon after graduate school and realizing afterward that I had told the group that Joshua Coffin was the last resident owner of the house – which was true, but allowed for the erasure of his cousin Lucy, who outlived him by thirty years in the house, but was never its legal owner. In that case, one word changed – last owner became last resident - and a woman’s life was brought back into focus. From that day on, the tours ended not with Joshua’s portrait in the hall, though we spent significant time discussing his remarkable life, but with a tiny, framed picture of Lucy Coffin seated in a straight-back chair in front of what was, in all but name, her house.
I remember once asking a professor why there were no books by or about women in his entire graduate level course on 18th and early 19th century France. SHOW ME THE SOURCES, he shouted. SHOW ME THE SCHOLARSHIP. IT DOESN’T EXIST! We might find it laughable – I hope we would find it laughable today to imagine that there were no women in the French Revolution, no records of their experience, and no women who could write competently about it.
It has come to feel natural for me to meet women in every stage of life, in public and private spaces, even when they were not included in the narratives of the past. Take a well-known male figure in Newburyport history – Tristram Dalton, widely celebrated for his role as Massachusetts’ first Senator (along with Caleb Cushing). His correspondence is voluminous, his portrait easily recognizable to many in this town. His life spanned the early decades of this country, and he experienced many of the same vicissitudes of fate as his peers, ultimately losing his fortune in real estate speculation.
Now let’s try that again. Ruth Hooper Dalton’s life spanned the early decades of this country, and, along with her husband, Tristram Dalton, she experienced many of the same vicissitudes of fate as their peers, ultimately losing their fortune in real estate speculation. Ruth Dalton, of whom no portrait has been found, worked the levers of her own circles of influence and favor, courting the help of Abigail Adams, Martha Washington, and more to ensure that her family did not wind up in abject poverty. Of course, she was also pregnant, nursing, or recently bereaved of a child for most of her adult life. And she managed a busy household that included extended family members, servants, and for a time, enslaved men and women. Her voice is quieter than her husband’s, and the women that worked for her even quieter than hers, but they are there, and they deserve the attention of historians.
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Ruth Hooper Dalton spent more time in the Dalton House than did her husband, and certainly more than George Washington or any of the “distinguished men” who visited them both. She is not, however, on the sign.
So now imagine my horror when I recall myself saying to a student who was interested in researching the Black experience in Newburyport, “well, there’s really not much in the way of sources.” Recent research, like Kristen Fehlhaber’s insightful, detailed research into the life of Caroline Cottrell, disputes this idea that this history can’t be done – that there are no sources. I say what Joyce Berkman said to me when frustrated with a research subject that was proving elusive. “Just keep looking”. Those willing to do the hard work of combing through records, reading “against the grain”, often find details of rich and complex lives, hidden in plain sight. Just keep looking.
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Something Is Always Cooking... |
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Early March has traditionally been a tough time for farmers as the previous year's produce begins to run out. Three long-lasting staples, apples, onions, and squash, formed the basis of many a meal in New England this time of year. In this recipe, these traditional ingredients combine with zesty spices to bring this hearty soup to life. This recipe, modified from the notes of an old friend, is wonderful for a group - it is vegan (just leave out the dairy topping), gluten free, soy-free, filling, and delicious. A squash and apple soup, seasoned with only salt, and with water rather than broth, was served in our Poore family home in West Newbury during the Great Depression.
Roasted Squash and Apple Soup
2½ pounds butternut squash, peeled and diced
2 medium Granny Smith and/or McIntosh apples, diced
2 tablespoon olive oil
kosher salt
1 yellow onion, cut in eight large pieces
3 cloves fresh garlic, minced
2 teaspoons curry powder
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/4 teaspoon paprika
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (if desired)
4 cups vegetable broth
dried cranberries, smoked almonds, and creme fraiche or sour cream for serving (optional)
Preheat oven to 450°.
Drizzle diced squash, apples, and onions with olive oil, sprinkle with salt and roast until squash is fork tender (about 20 minutes).
Drizzle olive oil into a Dutch oven or soup pot. Warm spices and garlic until fragrant. Add broth (deglaze pan), and roasted squash, apples, and onions. Heat and simmer for 5-7 minutes. Using a stick blender, puree the entire pot (or transfer to a stand blender), and blend until smooth. Salt and pepper to taste.
Serve with chopped smoked almonds and cranberries for a vegan treat, or add a spoonful of creme fraiche or sour cream for extra zing. Enjoy!
Tip: Chop the squash slightly smaller than the apples before roasting and keep the onions in large chunks if possible. If the onion falls apart, remove onion slices as they roast. Add more broth before serving seconds as it tends to become very thick when cold.
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Click the image to do the puzzle
"Official Program Woman Suffrage Procession," National American Woman Suffrage Association, Washington, D.C., March 3, 1913 Library of Congress
Women's marches like this built support for voting rights for women and contradicted the image of passive helpmeets whose only place was in the home.
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Museum e-Newsletter made possible through the
generosity of our sponsors:
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Museum of Old Newbury
98 High Street
Newburyport, MA 01950
978-462-2681
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