Shards Of History–– A Potter’s Life Was Not An Easy One

By Dottie Evans

Connecticut stoneware and redware from the late 18th and early 19th centuries was the Tupperware of its times –– cheap, utilitarian, and ubiquitous.

No early American pantry was considered complete without such common household objects as stoneware crocks for cold storage, pottery jugs for water and ale, red clay dishes known as redware for baking, and glazed redware platters for serving.

It is not surprising, therefore, that during this period of early American history, the potter’s trade was an important one, especially in the Norwalk area where there was plentiful red clay and proximity to Long Island Sound for transportation of the heavy ware to markets up and down the East Coast.

Richard Prowse, former Stamford police sergeant and currently a general contractor, began collecting Norwalk stoneware nearly 30 years ago. He has followed his fascination with potters and the potter’s life to the point that today he lectures widely on the subject. He also enjoys reenacting the life of Norwalk potter Absalom Day on Day’s Norwalk gravesite, and he is on the verge of publishing his first book on Norwalk redware.

On Monday, March 8, Mr Prowse spoke about his avocation to the Newtown Historical Society at the Booth Library, and he displayed various pieces from his personal collection. Many of the stoneware crocks had their place of origin stamped into the clay, but Mr Prowse said trying to match actual potters to their work was a nearly impossible task, even though he might know exactly which Norwalk kiln had produced the pieces.

“The clays are very distinctive to specific areas,” Mr Prowse said.

The very first Connecticut stoneware seemed to have originated in the Horse Neck area of Greenwich, and records show that kiln to have been started by a Dutchman, he said, “who later turned out to be a German.”

Thereby introducing the huge problem of attribution when it comes to early American potters and their pots.

“The problem was, Norwalk potters came and went, and they all worked out of only two or three big kilns. When you look at the old records, it seems like everyone who took up potting was related and the same names keep cropping up. Smiths, Raymonds, Days, Georges, Merrills, Quintards, Chichesters, Wheelers –– you have to become a genealogist to sort them all out,” Mr Prowse said.

Nevertheless, he was able to focus on one potter by the name of Absalom Day, who lived in Norwalk and who worked for the Smith Pottery in Norwalk from 1781 to his death in 1843.

“There was a glut of potters in Norwalk at that time, and it seems that Day, who began a seven-year apprenticeship when he was 13 or 14, eventually taught most Norwalk potters their trade,” he added.

The early 19th Century was a time of relative stability and little technological change.

Mr Prowse said that as far as he knew, there were no potters working in Newtown but that Danbury had kilns for baking its own bricks, as did many towns during those days.

Most Connecticut stoneware was transported from Norwalk either by schooners sailing up and down the coast, or by teamsters driving oxcarts to markets inland. After 1840, trains began to be the chosen method of transport for the heavy pottery.

“That was when stoneware crocks that had been ovoid or squat in shape changed to having straight sides for easier storage and stacking.”

After the Civil War, the old ways were going out of fashion. Technology was changing with the industrial revolution, and people were turning to glass and tin for their kitchenwares. Butter churns were invented with hand cranks. Nobody wanted to lug the heavy stoneware around anymore.

“Imagine having to carry an eight-pound jug filled with two gallons of water up a steep stairs.”

Finally, the Norwalk pottery trade, which had been the largest in New England, went bust.

“It happened sometime around 1870, because we know that between 1825 and 1875, more than 300 Norwalk potters became bankrupt,” Mr Prowse said.

A Miserable Way To       Make A Living

There were a few perks to being a potter, however, but only if you worked hard and had a healthy constitution. One of these was the ability to combine pottery with the farming way of life.

When fall came and the crops were in, a farmer could turn to his potting skills to support him and his family during the long winter months. He could dig his clay and throw his pots, then go back to his fields while the pots shrank (nearly 14 percent) and dried to the consistency of leather before they could be fired. After firing, there was glazing and decorating, more steps in the lengthy process during which other work could be pursued.

“Potting was a miserable trade. You were cold in winter and hot in summer. Potters loved the moist, cold days of fall when the air was heavy, because then the fire would burn faster.

“It was extremely hard work. You dug your clay and your sand for the flux, and you had to be strong enough to throw a ten-pound lump of clay, then lift the pots and reposition them constantly during firing.”

Stoneware was fired at 2,400 degrees to release the steam and gasses, and the lead used to glaze pots gave off noxious fumes that when ingested and inhaled caused tremors.

“People didn’t know it, but when they ate off redware dishes, they were getting lead poisoning. They might have complained of feeling poorly and they didn’t know why,” Mr Prowse said.

Then there was the constant danger of the kiln catching fire and collapsing under the extreme heat. The bricks lining the kiln walls had been fired at 1,800 degrees, but stoneware needed to be fired at 2,400 degrees, so the kilns often did not stand up to the heat.

“We found one that had been held together by iron bands,” Mr Prowse said.

Many bricks found in the area of a collapsed pottery kiln are still identifiable by their burn marks, Mr Prowse said.

“The closer to the fire, the darker the color.”