This is the sixth in a series of articles written for The Atlanta Journal in 1890 and 1891 by W.W. Goodrich, an architect who practiced in Atlanta between 1889 and 1895.
I’ll be blunt: this article is unreadable garbage.
Here, Goodrich concocted a tale set in the state of Washington that begins with an ill-fated hunting excursion by “Wyltwyck, the haughty queen of the Nooksacks”.
Wiltwyck, of Dutch origin, wasn’t the name of any Indigenous person in Oregon — it was the original name for Kingston, New York,2 where Goodrich may have been raised and practiced architecture from 18753 to 1878.4
For a mythomaniac, Goodrich’s storytelling skills were atrocious: after reading this article multiple times, I still don’t know what the hell it’s about. My best guess is that he started writing one story, and when he couldn’t figure out how to advance the plot, decided to jam an entirely different one into it.
As if the article weren’t incomprehensible enough, Goodrich packed it full of Chinook Jargon and outright gibberish. Terms like Sahale Tyee, Nika tilakum, and kloochman are accurate,5 but much of the text reads like the speech of a babbling toddler.
Sample sentence: “Loved by the tribe and by her Ikt man kwon esum mit lite kopa ikt kloochman.” Da fuq?
Despite his own grade-school writing ability, Goodrich audaciously derided the intelligence of Indigenous people, noting “the simplicity of [Wyltwyck’s] nature” and later referring to “the simple-minded Indian”.
Goodrich also made the character of Wyltywk an adherent of Christianity — because of course he did — describing her recitation of the Lord’s Prayer to “the Great Jehovah, or Great Spirit”. As a compulsive liar and criminal fraud, you can be sure Goodrich was an exceptional Christian.
Incidentally, the translation of the Lord’s Prayer is mostly accurate — Goodrich copied it from George Gibbs‘ Dictionary of the Chinook Jargon.
The only value in reproducing this article is to show the kind of pure bullshit that the United States has built its myths on — moronic fantasies spun by narcissistic infants who lack experiential knowledge and are desperate to prove their superiority by portraying other people as weak and inferior.
If you think there’s a shred of truth in this cultus wauwau, grow up and read a history book.
Goodrich used a word from Chinook Jargon that is now considered offensive and will not be reproduced here. The term has been replaced with the [omitted] tag, and trust me, it doesn’t make the article any worse.
Written for the Journal.
[Note.–For the definitions of the Indian words in this story, see the end of the article.]
The cold, gray clouds were drifting over Mount Baker. Occasionally a rift in the moving mass of snow would reveal the glaziers in the canyons, and the rugged ridges of rock protruding from the ice in uneven peaks. The stillness of death reigned everywhere. Flake upon flake, at first floating silently by, would be raised from the crust to again mingle with the storm’s ever increasing determination to bury all surviving life under its revengeful mantle. Upon a projecting crag overlook a precipice, whose depth was many hundreds of feet, was Wyltwyck, the haughty queen of the Nooksacks. Tall, straight as an arrow, with knotted muscles, in silent determination she waited, with bow bent, the spring of the mountain lion, that terror of the northwest, which was crouched, ready to spring upon her as its victim for its evening meal. Cat-like, with stealth, crawling slowly, its hair raised and tail in gentle twirl, it crouched for a spring. Instantly was heard the hiss of the speeding arrow, straight and unerring. The beast had been hit in a vital part and was mortally wounded. It snaps at the arrow in its fury rolling over and over in the snow. The proud queen of the Nooksacks mockingly laughs, taunting it with expressions of ridicule that a [omitted] Kloochman should have dealt this noble beast in its own home its death blow. The snow is crimson from the warm blood of the beast; in its final agony it makes one desperate jump at the squaw, only to be met with the dagger’s blow, severing the jugular vein. The death dance over an enemy in all its peculiar quaintness and picturesqueness, in the solitude of the mountain’s fastness, with no mortal soul to witness the ceremony and in the storms of relentless fury, made the heart of Queen Nooksack bound with intense delight. Such is the Indian’s desire for solitude. Sahala Tyee, Sahala Tyee, Nika Tilakum Wyltwyck was alone, and in calling up on the Great Jehovah, or Great Spirit, she in the simplicity of her nature acknowledged the beneficience [sic] of God Almighty, as the saviour of the human soul, and for her safe return to her people Stepping to the edge of the precipice overlooking the deep recesses of the canyon, looking for salt chuck, as her bearing to the Boston, she realized she was lost and had become separated from her tribal relations in the hunt. With hands uplifted towards the unseen God, who lived upon the mountain top she prayed and in the fervency of her prayer and anguish the words echoed and re-echoed from peak to peak, from canyon to canyon, but the Lord’s Prayer never sounded sweeter to the Saviour nor came nearer the throne of grace than did the prayer of this lone Indian squaw several thousand feet above the sea Nepika Sahale Tyee Klaxta Mitlite Kopa sahale Koshe Kopa nesika tumtum mika mem. Kloshe Mika tyee Kopa Konaway tilikum Kloshe Mika tumtum Kopa illahe kahwka kopa sahale potlatch konaway sun neiska muckamuck pee kopet kumtuks konaway nesika mesache kahkwa nesika mamook kopa klaska spose mamook mesahche kopa nesika marsh siah kopa nesika konaway mesanche. KLOSHE KAHKWA.
She had not eaten for many hours as her muckamuck was gone Hyas til Nika, and wrapping her pasee about her, she was soon asleep in the Tkope snass.
The [omitted] Sail house was east of the Boston town of Nooksack on the Nooksack river at the foot of Mount Baker, whose great and majestic grandeur must been seen to be appreciated. On its sides are five glaziers moving constantly and steadily to the plains and valleys below, from under which are heard dense crunchings and loud reports and moans, caused by the ice and rocks gravitating to the lower levels and melting in a higher temperature. All of these sounds are a constant source of terror to the simple-minded Indian, who imagines these noises are devils and demons in mortal combat, each arrayed against the other, and that the smoke from the peak is caused by their firing their respective hells with each other’s bodies, as a burnt sacrifice to allay the wrath of the defeated chief devil, acknowledging that even devils have an affinity for some sort of a patched up friendship.
The homes of these people were built of bark, skins and rifted cedar thatched with wild grasses. At the apex was an opening for the egress of smoke; their muck-a-muck was game dried and jerked. Salmon were speared, halved, salted and dried and then smoked. To soften them a pointed stick was run through the thick part of the tail and then the fish was pinned to the bed of the river under water to freshen and soften preparatory to cooking and eating, a sure and speedy way.
They raised yesolth and few vegetables, and were a dreamy, superstitious and quiet people, only going on the warpath when repeatedly insulted, and never giving in till the foe were entirely wiped out of existence even to the last papoose.
A Boston man came among them to purchase skins and barter for gold. He built a marmook and lived in simple style and readily took to the native ways. His goods were brought from Linden, the head of navigation in the [omitted] Canum. Tyee Wyltwyck, and his Queen were carefully and courteously treated, and their daughter, Pilchickanim, their only child, was a Hyas Kloshe Tenas Kloochman, the handsomest female of the several tribes with hosts of suitors. She was tall, stately, her piercing black eyes penetrating as an eagle’s, her long waving, straight black hair, fine as silk, trailing on the ground, a veritable queen, and set off with trinkets and jewelry of Boston made her a picture in nature never to be forgotten. Boston was envied by all the young bucks, and many a one was felled to the ground by Boston in fights with the girl’s lovers.
With her cedar canoe she could out-race any two of the tribe, and many a deer and bear fell an easy victim to her arrow and spear-thrust as they swam the river. Boston loved Pilchickanim. His love was reciprocated by the girl in her Indian way–coy, shrewd and distant. His was love as only a Boston can–affection for this maid of the forest, in his manly Boston way. To see the two in her canoe as she speedily paddled the river with or against the current one would not suspect that the were lovers. She never betrayed an emotion, but when Boston was sick she nursed him back to life. When he was assailed by any of her tribe she fought like a mountain lion with her dagger. Her own tribal relations, and always routed the young bucks.
The sun was setting over the salt chuck. Its brilliant rainbow colors now soft and subdued, rose and fell with the long rook of the ocean. From the northwest came that brilliant glare and with beautiful vibrations lurid and distinct of the auroborealis [sic]. The tribe were with the Tyee Wyltwyck at the Sail house, fearful of an impending fate, when into their midst walked Boston without hesitation. He addressed the chief, Nika Tikeh Malleh Pilchicknin. The Tyee arose and, brandishing his dagger, swore, never! Instantly Pilchicknin, with the stately bearing of her princely birth, advanced to the side of her lover, Boston. Ah, ha! ws Tyee Wyltwyck. The simple Indian ceremony was soon over, and with her husband, she went to live at the Markook house. Loved by the tribe and by her Ikt man kwon esum mit lite kopa ikt kloochman.
The run of salmon had been light; game was scarce; the season had been too cold for yeosolth, and supplies at the Markook were at an ebb, when a great hunt was planned by the tribe, following up the Nooksack to the glaziers [sic], from under which the buttermilk chuck was constantly running. Suddenly a Hyas skookum cly Hyas mowich, the moose sank into the snow as a shower of arrows went hissing on their deadly mission. Tyee Wyltwyck rushed forward to end the career of the moose should it not have been killed by the arrows. But in the snow lay Queen Wyltwyck wrapped in a moose skin, unharmed. She had seen her people in search of her, and surmising that they would take her for a moose, as she was clothed in a moose skin, dropped in the snow. She had subsisted for several days on the moose, and brought the lion skin as a memento.
W.W. GOODRICH
Sahala Tyee, Sahala Tyee (great Jehova or Great Spirit), mika tilikum (I want my tribe, I want to go to my people, literally).
Nepika (our) sahale (Father) klaxta (who) mitlite (art) kopa (in) sahale (the spirit) kloshe (good) kopa (in) nesika (our) tumtum (hearts) mika (be thy) mem (name) kloshe (good) mika (thou) tyee (chief) kopa (among) konaway (all) tilikum (people) kloshe (good) mika (thy) tumtum (will) kopa (upon) iliahe (earth) kahkwa (as) kopa (in) sahale (the spirit) potlatch (give) konaway (every) sun (day) mesika (our) muckamuck (food) pee (and) kopet-kumtuks (remember not) konaway (all) nesika (our) mesache (sins) kahwka (as) nesika (our) mesache (sins) kahkwa (as) nesika (we) mamook (do) kopa (to) klaska (them) spose (that) mamook (do) mesahche (wrong) kopa (to) nesika (as) marsh (put away) siah (far) kopa (from) nesika (us) konaway (all) mesahche (evil). Kloshe kahkwa (amen).
Hyas til nika (I am very tired). Tkope snass (the snow). Sail house (tent). Yesolth (corn). Pilchicanim (I want to marry you golden beauty). Hoyas skookum cly (a great shot). Hyas mowich (big horse). Tossee (blankets). Boston (a white man). Muckamuck (food). [omitted] canim (Indian canoe).6
The following anecdote, attributed to W.W. Goodrich, was published in The Atlanta Constitution just 9 months after Goodrich moved to Atlanta in 1889.1
Nearly everything in this story about an Oregon gold rush town appears to be a lie. It’s plausible that Goodrich passed through the location at some point, but he couldn’t even get its name right.
According to the Oregon Encyclopedia, Amelia City “boomed for a short time and quickly declined”, appearing on maps from 1876 to 1890. The article adds that the town’s “…peak population was likely a few hundred…”
So much for Goodrich’s description of a “town of thirty thousand miners…”, including some who “…had not seen a baby in twenty years…” And surely with thirty thousand horny men around, the town’s two young women would have been popping out babies like firecrackers. Oh, c’mon, you know the “old lady” was really a madam.
Even the story of Goodrich’s 1700-mile journey from Salt Lake City to Pendleton, Oregon, is a lie. In 1882, Goodrich lived for 6 months in Boise, Idaho,2 3 before moving to Seattle.4 That was when he could have passed through Amelia City, which was located on the route between Boise and Seattle, southeast of Baker City.5
Incidentally, the distance between Salt Lake City and Pendleton, Oregon, is less than 600 miles, but who’s measuring?
The only difference between an architect and a con artist is that an architect believes their own bullshit, and Goodrich seems to have straddled the fine line between the two his entire life, constantly running from one location to the next when his lies caught up with him, leaving scant architecture of merit in his wake.
In 1890, the Deep South was virgin territory for Goodrich, and it was no doubt easier for him to get away with his tall tales at a time when the telegraph was the fastest mode of communication, and long-distance phone service was nonexistent.
Travel to the other side of the country was also costly and precarious, and there would have been few people in a backwater like Atlanta who would have been familiar enough with the Far West to call Goodrich’s bluff. Still, you’d hope someone was astute enough to notice the ripe whiff emanating from his outlandish stories.
Mr. W.W. Goodrich, the architect, has traveled very extensively. In 1882 he traveled seventeen hundred miles by private conveyance with his family, going from Salt Lake to Pendleton, Oregon. At Amelia, Oregon, he found a town of thirty thousand miners, and in the entire population there were but three women–an old lady and her two daughters.
Mr. Goodrich had along his little baby six weeks old, and the baby created a sensation in the camps. Some of the miners had not seen a baby in twenty years, and they crowded about and handed the baby from one another.
“If an artist could have painted the scene,” said Mr. Goodrich, “it would have been a most interesting picture. There were grizzly old miners with pistols in their belts and knives in their boots alternately crying and laughing as they passed the baby around. ‘God bless his little gizzard,’ said one fellow, as the tears streamed down his face.”6
It isn’t difficult to determine the date of this roadside relic — it’s right on the sign.
Besides the 5 or 6 surviving buildings designed by G.L. Norrman, there isn’t a whole lot in Spartanburg, South Carolina, worth mentioning, but Sugar ‘n’ Spice was a pleasant surprise when I discovered it.
At its 40th anniversary in 2001, the owner revealed that he had considered removing the restaurant’s distinctive Googie-style canopy, but ultimately reconsidered: “I did a little poll, and it was not even close … the canopy’s staying.”1
A wise decision.
This is the fifth in a series of articles written for The Atlanta Journal in 1890 and 1891 by W.W. Goodrich, an architect who practiced in Atlanta between 1889 and 1895.
Here, Goodrich tells a “true story” of an encounter with Abraham Lincoln in New York City during the Civil War, although the account is almost certainly fabricated.
Goodrich was a pathological liar of some magnitude,1 2 3 and it appears that he largely invented his own biographical details, with implausible stories that became increasingly outlandish throughout his life. By the time of his death in 1907, Goodrich was described in one obituary as “a personal friend of President Lincoln”.4
The truth, of course, was likely much more mundane. According to the 1860 census — just before the Civil War, and when Goodrich was 19 years old — a man of his name and age lived in what is now the Financial District of Manhattan, where he worked as an insurance clerk.5
It’s doubtful that an insurance clerk who became an architect ever worked as a bootblack, and the odds that he met Abraham Lincoln are slim to none. Goodrich at least shows some grain of truth by referencing City Hall Park, which is the largest public space in the lower portion of New York.
This fable is in the vein of other hagiographic tales about American “heroes” that were popular in the 19th century — the apocryphal story of young George Washington chopping down a cherry tree, concocted by Mason Locke Weems, is a prime example of the genre.
This is not a prime example, however, as Goodrich was about as skilled at writing as he was at architecture.
It may seem a little daring that an Atlanta architect would write such a glowing account of Lincoln for a Southern audience, but keep in mind that Atlantans in the New South era prided themselves on having swiftly moved on from the Civil War — or at least, that was the image the city’s leaders wished to project.
The Old Southern hatred and ignorance remained just beneath the surface — and does so to this day — but this was, after all, the city that feted General Sherman for 3 days in 1879,6 fourteen years after he partially burned it.
Still, Northern-born men like Goodrich who lived and worked in Atlanta in the years after the Civil War had to walk a careful line: Atlantans weren’t offended if a Northerner pledged allegiance to their homeland so long as that person gave a knowing wink to indicate that they, too, shared the cherished Southern values of racism and unmerited superiority.
Look no further than Goodrich’s article entitled “Educational Advantages North and South”, published in The Southern Architect in 1892.
As The Atlanta Constitution said of the article: “[Goodrich] views the negro as an incumbrance and a political nuisance, and hopes that the better elements of the north and west will seek homes here and stand by the Anglo-Saxon race.”7
It should come as no surprise, then, that Goodrich’s story includes caricatured and infantilizing depictions of Black people, using offensive and stereotypical language. Two explicit racist terms will not be reproduced here and have been replaced with the [omitted] tag.
Characteristic Incident in the Life of Abraham Lincoln—A True Story.
Written for the Journal.
“Shine, sir! Shine Sir!” the usual cry of the bootblack trudging along day by day, half-starved, hope in a future better existence, where he can sit beside a table of generous roast beef, mashed spuds, the revivifying coffee, hot rolls and butter. How my memory goes back to those days when these good things were of the “sight and smell only.” A short time before the assassination of our Lincoln he visited New York City in company with that stern, hard-headed secretary of war, Stanton.
I had seen the president on several occasions and knew him by sight, as Mr. Lincoln always, and all times, had a quiet, natural greeting for everyone; even the humblest child could approach him and be assured of a cordial and true gentlemanly greeting.
As they were crossing City Hall park I ran up behind, and with sang froid, said “Shine, uncle, shine, sir?” Mr. Lincoln turned about with a bright, humorous smile, while the great war secretary, in half indignation, asked the president to come on, as time was precious, but Mr. Lincoln said, “Wait a moment, Mr. Stanton, let’s sit down.”
Seating themselves at the west of the old city hall on a settee Mr. Lincoln was in the act of placing his right boot on my box, when behind me arose a cry: “Massa Lincum, let me shine of dem boots? Smug, you go away from dar, den Massa Lincum make me free. You poor white trash no bizzness shining my Massa’s boots.” A good argument, even from the “duke,” as we called the colored lad. My nickname was “Smug.” Mr. Lincoln afterwards remarked: “I will let you both shine; each can have a boot.” A crowd was gathering about us, of boot-blacks, errand boys, news boys and pedestrians, all anxious to know what was up, but all soon knew who the distinguished gentleman was, and with repeated cries from the less fortunate boys of “Go in Smug,” “I’ll bet on the duke,” and other phrases, we shined as best we could, Mr. Lincoln amusingly telling us that he’d bet on the hoss that won, and I’ll pay the boy that shines the best for both boots, patronizingly patting us on the back. When we had nearly completed our pleasant task Mr. Lincoln said: “Boys, I am going to tell you a story. I have just come up from the front. Have been down with General Grant, looking over the battle-fields, going through the hospitals;” and a great tear rolled down his cheek as he mentioned the brave boys, with legs and arms shot off, and the lonely graves of the unknown dead, and thinking of the anxious ones at home, who would never see their fathers, brothers and sons again. How vividly he portrayed the scene. Finally he said: “Several evenings since, as I sat in a tent door, in conversation with General Grant, a colored woman came by the guard, and in her arms were two little colored children saying, as she approached, ‘Massa Lincum, I’se hab twins, boff [omitted]. One I’se named arter you, and de udder arter Massa Washington. Dey’s boff de berry picture ob yous. Now, Massa Lincum, seeing as how yous ben so good ter de [omitted], and dat yous has made us free, and as my ole man is at de front, shouldering his musket fighting for yer, I’se gwine to ask yer to help dese [omitted] to something to eat,’” and suiting his action to his words he took out of his vest pocket two one dollar bills, and gave us each one, saying “you [omitted] look as though something to eat would not be amiss.”
The boys gave Massa Lincum three cheers and a tiger. While I was putting up my brush and blacking, after receiving the bill, even before I was off the bended knee, he saw in box a book. “Smug, what is that book?” I reluctantly gave it to him. He looked at its well-worn leaves and read “Robinson’s Algebra,” looking at me quizzically, saying to himself “Robinson’s Algebra.” “What are you doing with an algebra?” I hesitated about telling him, but his pleased look drew out my story. Only a poor, struggling student, working and striving under every opportunity and at whatever occupation to get an education that would prepare me for the future and that better my condition, and that by knowledge. He manifested much interest, promising to keep a weather eye on my future, and in parting said, “As your shine is well done, do everything else in like manner. and you will soon shine in something better.”
W.W. Goodrich8
This is the fourth in a series of articles written for The Atlanta Journal in 1890 and 1891 by W.W. Goodrich, an architect who practiced in Atlanta between 1889 and 1895.
Aimed squarely at the upper-class audience who could afford the services of an architect, here Goodrich provided an exacting and plodding description of a hall and reception room decorated in the Colonial Revival style that was then becoming fashionable in Atlanta’s wealthiest homes.
At the time, interior design as a dedicated profession was emerging in larger cities like New York and Chicago, but in Atlanta, it was still primarily the domain of architects — in particular, L.B. Wheeler and W.T. Downing were popular for their interior design skills.
Goodrich affected a lofty and condescending tone typical of the era, when designers — usually men — lectured their readers — primarily women — on how to decorate their homes in a manner that was considered cultured, refined, and in “good taste”.
A Chapter on Interior Decoration.
A Roomy Reception-Room and Hall.
An Article that Will Prove of Special Interest to the Ladies – Description of Beautiful Decorations for a Reception Room.
Written for the Journal.
Of the numerous styles of design applicable to the treatment of a reception room and hall the Colonial is one of the most pleasing, combining, as it does, the severe and studied simplicity of classic form with a delicate and distinctive grace and daintiness of detail. As one of the first principles of design is adaptability to requirements, the use to which the room is to be put should determine not only the practical essentials of convenience and utility, but also the impression which is to be made on the minds of its occupants by their surroundings, and this impression should coincide as nearly as possible with the thoughts and objects which will be uppermost in their minds. As such a room is devoted to the formalities of society, the treatment of its design should be formal and of studied simplicity. Any attempt at display or indulgence in eccentricities of design, either in wood finish, furniture, hangings or decorations, any violent or startling combinations of color, any pictures or bric-a-brac sufficiently conspicuous and out of keeping with their surroundings to attract immediate attention, would be evidences of bad taste and want of study in the effect of the whole.
Our reception room should consequently be, more than any other room, a harmonious whole, a dream of perfection, for it is here that we declare our taste and education to the world. If it is otherwise, the conception has been a failure, and the visitors will not find that appropriate ease in their surroundings which the occasion demands. It is infinitely better to make no attempt whatever at treatment than to give cause for the ignorant presumption of the would-be critic. A rich, pleasing, and above all, general effect should be the first impression conveyed to the mind on entering the successfully treated reception room, the whole scheme being so carefully studied that no one thing should be given undue prominence, but everything should participate in and be subservient to the effect of the whole, and then this effect will have the “refinement and charm of a fascinating and cultivated woman dressed in perfect taste.” Great care should be taken to produce the exact shades of colors desired, and it is important that those selected should be becoming to the “mistress of the house”, for if otherwise, she will appear at a disadvantage and out of place with her surroundings just when she should feel and appear at her best The most satisfactory results can be obtained by the general use of one or two color at most, but these can be produced in two or more shades which, however, should vary but slightly. Many so-called reception rooms are used for various other purposes which would involve the consideration of other impressions to be expressed in the treatment of design, together with other practical essentials.
Our room is about fifteen feet square, with the four corners rounded, and the wall coving into the ceiling with a curve of about nine inches radius, having no molding at either intersection with the flat surfaces. The inlaid floor is highly polished and has a border of prima vera and satin wood with the center in strips of the former wood two inches wide laid vertically in each wall, and mitering at angles.
Prima vera is a beautiful golden yellow species of mahogany which is used on the Pacific coast for fine interior finish. The wood finish of the room is made in cherry, which is enabled with seven coats of a rich cream color and polished to a dull egg-shell gloss. Cherry is greatly superior to pine or white wood for enameling purposes, the grain being so close and the wood so hard that all moldings and detail, no matter how fine, are sharply and clearly produced, and the chances of denting or disfiguring in any way by constant use are greatly lessened. As the drawings show clearly the treatment of the woodwork, only a few general remarks are necessary to make them understood. All moldings and details are of the utmost delicacy, the sinking being but one-quarter of an inch.
The carvings are mostly composed of acanthus leaf, rendered quite flat, with an extreme projection of but three-quarters of an inch, those of garlands only having conventionalized flowers and leaves, all executed with the utmost delicacy, edges being sharply and clearly defined, but in no case having a projection of more than one-sixteenth of an inch, the high light edges and surfaces being daintily touched with silver throughout. The portion of frieze over windows is a transom light of silver leaded pink and cream colored opalescent glass, on the same plane with walls of room; below this is a silvered rod, with rings for draperies. The walls are hung with a warm shade of rose pink silk, perfectly plain, in vertical pleats about four inches wide. This silk is secured in place by hooks and eyes, and can be taken down, cleaned and put back again with but very little trouble. Just below the wood cornice is a valance of the same silk, divided into sections by narrow pipes, placed at equal intervals, the head of each hanging down and being slightly crushed. The valance is cut to hang in slight creases, but its lower edge follows around the room in a perfectly straight line, and is bordered by a cream-colored silk fringe two and one-quarter inches wide, corresponding to the epistylium over doors and windows. Just back of this fringe is a silvered rod, supported by hooks screwed into the walls, its surface showing at intervals through the reticulations. The window draperies are heavy ones being of satin damask, in the same rose pink as the wall hangings, but a shade darker with cream colored silk fringes, tassels and linings. A pair of silk lace curtains and a sash lace on silver rods subdue the daylight to the desired tone. The ceiling cove and that portion of the walls above the cornice molding are treated in five coats of oil color on plaster, rendered in cloudy effect, commencing at the cornice, in rose pink, grading lighter toward the ceiling, and finally to a cream color beyond the ornament on ceiling, the clouding being in cream and pink, very light and filmy, and irregularly introduced. At the intersection of cove and ceiling are two strands of braid in carton pierre, forming a framework on which base the decoration. This braid comes down over the cove at intervals in two intertwining strands, and the intermediate spaces are filled by garlands of conventionally treated flowers and leaves, also produced in carton pierre, not over three-eights of inch in relief at great delicacy, both these and the braid being daintily silvered on high lights. Festoons of small discs hang above and below each garland, and acanthus buds and sprays spring from intermediate loops of the braid, flowing out onto ceiling and down into cove. The ornament is mostly cream in color, although where the clouding happens to be cream it has a very light pinkish tone, and in some places hardly distinguishable from the ground color; or, the whole treatment has a dreamy, atmosphere effect, impossible to describe, and must be seen to comprehend. All ornament is, of course, produced without any shadow or attempt at false relief, as under no circumstances whatever is such a treatment allowable. The furniture is like the finish, made in cherry and enameled in a rich cream color. It consists of the following pieces: A window seat about six feet long, having a cushion six inches thick and a large detached soft pillow, the edges of both being finished with a cord, which, on the cushion, is made into corner knots. A light divan five feet long, two arm chairs to match and two reception chairs complete the seating capacity of the room. The bottoms of all legs are shod with small silver boots, having casters on the front and rubber bearings on the back legs to prevent too free and easy a movement over the polished floor. All seats are upholstered plain, that is, not tufted, and the colorings are or figured silk tapestry, worked with bunches of flowers and leaves in delicate shades of dull blue, pink and green, on a light cream ground, the goods being mostly ground and showing very little of the other colors. There is a center table elliptical in shape, has silvered claw feet, and a Mexican onyx top of rich creamy tone. The cabinet has clear plate glass, with silvered leads in doors and sides, a French plate mirror back and three plate glass shelves, the piece being finished equally well both inside and out. All this furniture has the most delicate possible details of moldings and carvings, and is daintily lined and touched with silver throughout. Two large, white, bear skin rugs form the only floor covering.
W.W. Goodrich1
