America's Heritage: A Colony Lives On (1950s?)

colonial America enshrined for the timeless future lives on in Williamsburg, Virginia, fountain head of our nation's liberty. Today's autos line the same streets that George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Patrick Henry hurried along two centuries ago on their way to the capital. Here in Williamsburg, restored and preserved, are the precious symbols of our colonial heritage. The present seems to melt into the past as horsedrawn carriages transport visitors back to a time when Williamsburg was the political, social, and educational center of Virginia, oldest, largest, and most populous of the British colonies in America. In Williamsburg, seen from the air, 341 colonial buildings have been authentically restored or reconstructed. Below is the arsenal. From the arsenal where most of the colony's armaments were kept, costume troops march out each morning at 10:00 to sound the cannon. Beneath the British Union Jack, the canineer lights the powder charge. English customs are common place in Williamsburg, which once ranked with New York, Philadelphia, and Boston as a great colonial capital. It is still the home of William and Mary, second college founded in America. A statue of a popular British governor, Lord Battor, stands in front of the Ren building, oldest academic building in the United States. Chartered in 1693, the college's graduates include Presidents Jefferson, Monroe, and Tyler. Craftsmen in 18th century dress make colonial Williamsburg live again. The barber and paroo or wig maker earned a precarious living. Most of his customers were men. A lady's wig or hair was dressed at home. The shop is complete with everything except customers. For wig making is a vanishing art. But still the perooker patiently plies his trade, curling the human or goat's hair in each wig. The golden ball was a thriving jewelry store in the 1770s. A remarkable collection of antique clocks and pre-revolutionary silverware line the walls of the reconstructed shop. Silver smiths are busy here, too, turning out candlesticks and other hand brought products patterned from original pieces. The early American jeweler served as something of a banker. Since money fluctuated radically in value, wealthy Virginiaians put their savings into jewelry. Today, Silvermith carries on the colonial tradition of fine craftsmanship. The Golden Ball stands next to the millinary shop where 18th century housewives could purchase the latest in fashions from England. It was in effect a women's general store, the forerunner of our women's dress shop. The counters and shelves were stocked with necessities, fineries, and best of all, bonnets to capture the fancy of any colonial lady. Among Williamsburg's most interesting exhibits is the printing office, typical of the shop that in 1776 published the first news of the Declaration of Independence. Inking the press was only one of 11 different operations needed to print a single page. Still, a steady stream of newspapers, books, and pamphlets come off the handpowered press. The early printer shared his shop with another colonial craftsman, the bookbinder, who sewed, covered, and decorated books and ledgers. Just as popular today as two centuries ago is the Raleigh Tavern Bakery. While the baker prepares the ingredients, his assistant breaks out the oven, which is fired directly to heat it for the bread dough. The baker uses a long handle called a peel to lift the loaves into the oven. An hour takes the clock face in the bakery which uses recipes, ingredients, and equipment common in colonial days. Fresh from the oven, the fragrant bread is a tasty testimonial to the baker's skill in an exacting art. Candle making was one of the most important household crafts in a time when candle light was almost the only means of illumination at night. Candles made of bay berries from the fields were popular because they burned with a clear flame. At Williamsburg, candles are still made from berry wax melted over an open fire. After wicks had been strung in each of the candle molds and the molten wax strained, it was poured into the forms. When the wax cooled, a quick dip in hot water was enough to free the finished candle from its mold. The capital is historically Williamsburg's most important single building. The Union Jack flies as it did on the eve of the Revolution. Inside is the hall of the house of Burgesses where the seeds of freedom were nurtured and proclaimed by the great patriots of colonial Virginia. In the simply furnished chamber, America's oldest lawmaking body met for 3/4 of a century. Here, Patrick Henry's fiery defiance lighted the way to independence for a determined people. [Music] The governor's palace has been rebuilt on its original foundations. $35 million have been spent on the restoration of colonial Williamsburg and the work is still going on. The palace gates bear traditional symbols of the power and prestige of the British crown in 18th century America. The original building was erected after the capital of Virginia had been moved in 1699 from Jamestown to Williamsburg. Living here, the royal governors administered a colony that stretched north to the Great Lakes and west to the Mississippi River. Our guide graciously beckons us inside. Patient research has recreated the palace in all its elegance as it was in 1780. That year, the capital was transferred to Richmond, and Williamsburg entered a century and a half of obscurity that ended with the start of its restoration in 1926. Dedicated to the motto that the future may learn from the past. Williamsburg is a living heritage welcoming Americans to come and be reminded again of the ideals of liberty upon which our nation was founded. Time was when the carriage house, not the garage, was a familiar part of the American scene. Today at Stonybrook, Long Island, the carriage house is a museum recalling the period when traffic moved to a clippity clock. Those were the days of the hand fire engine. Volunteers lovingly tended the pumper. 24 men hauled her to fires on the run and without pausing manned the pumps for the honor of the honeybee and the safety of the town. Those were days when the butcher's prices startled no one. In short, those were the horse and buggy days. Mass-roduced, the buggy was America's first cheap private vehicle. It named an era and introduced the woman driver. Stony Brook's carriage house contains probably the largest collection of America's horsedrawn vehicles. American carriage manufacturing began about 1740, but there weren't many places to go, and roads were so bad you did better by horse. Philadelphia was the early Detroit of the carriage business. And as highways and geography improved, it appeared that ours was to be a nation on wheels. It started with a Konosogga wagon weighing three tons, carrying nearly two tons more, this six-horse prairie schooner pioneered the first migration west after the revolution. In the 1800s, carriages were a million-dollar industry. And no vehicle was more famous than the conquered stage coach used in the Frontier West. It featured something new, lavishly upholstered seats for all nine passengers. [Music] Leather springs supported the conquered coaches, 3,000 of which helped link a growing nation. The '90s saw carriage making, a 67 million industry. But its days were numbered. And now a horse and carriage is a curiosity preserved in New York to drive the nostalgic through the park. This is the day of the automobile. Tomorrow perhaps the day of atomic vehicles, but gone forever are America's horse and buggy days. The Mystic Seapport Marine Museum preserving the spirit of seafaring days in early America. Nestled on the Mystic River in Connecticut, the museum is a reconstruction complete with ships, of a Yankee seaport in the golden age of sail, it is a symbol of all the little ports which a century ago sent forth the iron men in wooden ships that sailed the four winds in the seven seas. With a pioneer spirit, the hearty sailor steered America toward her destiny as the greatest maritime nation in the world. Seaport Street, paved and cobbled, is lined with recreated shops like those which served the seafaring sons of Mystic. And the ships of her storied past are birthed in a serene, snug harbor. The sailing ship Joseph Conrad is one of the 19th century barks that carried the American flag to the remote corners of the watery world. Though her spars are stripped and her days of glory gone, her sight still stirs the imagination. A youth training program makes the Mystic Museum a living museum of the sea, not just a collection of maritime antiquities. Girl Scout mariners working and living aboard ship learn firsthand qualities of character that sprung from the sea traditions of the past. Soon the girl mariners are scrambling up the rigging. Perhaps not as skillfully, but with the same enthusiasm as the men who manned the Conrad 100 years ago. Mescall is as welcomed today as it was then. Sharing a closelyknit comradeship, the girls develop initiative, responsibility, and self-reliance. The traits that stamped the Yankee Seaman and still live on at Mystic Seaborn. The pulse of the Conrad and her sister ships were their sails. And naturally, every port had its sail maker. Like the waterfront shop operated by Charles Mallerie. Inside were sewn by hand the sails which caught the winds that drove the ships in an era when engineriven vessels were still a dream. Tens of thousands of square feet of sturdy canvas were needed to outfit the 19th century ships. The sailmaker stove had a hang suspended from the ceiling, clearing the floor for laying out of the sail being sewn. Also on Seapport Street is the shop of AJ Peters, shipsmith and whalecraft manufacturer, the marine version of the village blacksmith. Still another mystic landmark founded in 1824 is the Plymouth Cottage Company. Here bales of hemp and manila fiber were spun into rope of all sizes. The raw yarn passed from the so-called bobin frames into the forming plate. Drawn through the plate. The yarn was later twisted into strands. These could be tied to the waists of the men who stepped backward along the old Plymouth rope walk. Down the ramp, the men moved until the strands they carried reached the required length. A colorful collection of figureheads and ship models provide a panorama of America's maritime fleet from President's Monroe to McKinley. The figureheads are all that remain of their ships long since vanished from the high seas. This one is from some nameless ship of 1820. Another recalls the Brigantine Atlanta. The figureheads were painstakingly carved, many by hand. This from the Fred Rica, built in the 1870s. Ranging from the bizarre to the beautiful, the figureheads lend another touch of authenticity to the museum at Mystic. The rows of ship models, one of the world's finest collections, include virtually every craft of float a century ago. The speedy clippers, the passenger packet ships, and the stout whalers like the Sunbeam shown here in lifelike detail. Murals on the wall pay tribute to the whailing men who risk death in landing their catch. Far from the ship, lashed to a sea giant thrashing wildly for freedom, the whalers hung grimly on. And when the whales fury was spent, the men claimed their prize. The seapport keeps alive the memory of their voyages in an even more dramatic way. The Charles Morgan, last of the wooden whailing ships, is an honored exhibit. During her 80 years of service ending in 1920, she earned more than $2 million. On deck are the try works, the ovens over which whale blubber was boiled to try or test the oil. After the tried oil had been stored away, the scraps and impurities were fed into the fuel beds in the oven to keep the fires burning. Below were the quarters of the captain who commanded a crew of 36 men and boys. His bed like a hammock could roll with the ship in rough seas. For the men of the Morgan, for all men who have gone down to the sea and ships, the farflung oceans are frontiers which demand courage, skill, and faith. With all three as companions, Americans have sailed out to answer the call of the sea. The Farmers Museum in Coopertown, New York. A living monument to America's farming pioneers who carved a great nation out of a wilderness. Here is a little crossroads community different from any other in the United States today. An authentic and dramatic recreation of life on the frontier. Here is a chance to look back across a century and a half at an old general store and the other landmarks of a farm village in the early 1800s. To approach the general store is to revive an era of American history now passed, a way of life long vanished. To pass its wooden Indian and cross over the threshold is to enter a world of community trade where buying and selling was mostly a matter of barter. Around the wood burning cast iron stove, farmers gathered in 1828 to discuss and debate the election between President John Quinsey Adams and Andrew Jackson. Then, as today, the store was stocked with whale oil lamps and hundreds upon hundreds of other household necessities. Quaint hats of all shapes lined the thick wooden shelves, cooking wear dangled from the ceiling. This was the funnel through which passed to the frontier settlers the growing manufacturers of the east coast, the spices of the orient, all those essentials and nicities of life which could not be produced on the almost self-sufficient farms. Here are other stores too. Just as in any crossroads town of 150 years ago, the blacksmith shop and most of the buildings on the village street had to be moved from other communities and meticulously reconstructed at the farmer's museum. Inside the blacksmith shop is comfortably cluttered with durable handmade tools, recalling a time when almost every farm machine, utensil, or instrument had to be wrought at the forge. The blacksmith and his tools are still in demand, surviving the coming of today's age of industry. And so he labors at his flaming forge, chewing horses and oxen, bringing the romantic traditions of the village smithy to life in the red glow of the coals, in the flashing sparks and ringing hammer on his anvil. and in the finished shoe sizzling in his oak bucket. Every upand cominging 19th century community had its printing office. This one built in 1829 typifies the role freedom of the press played in the American story. It turns back time to the days of the stage coach, the log cabin, homespun clothes, and cornmeal mush. And the Washington flatbed press even today is not idle. Inking his roller. This country printer editor is preparing to start his press in operation. But first, he must blacken the form. Its type laboriously set by hand. Next, the arm holding the paper is lowered. Then, both arm and form enter the press, which at the pull of a lever prints a newspaper based in style and topography on the first newspaper in Coopertown, the Oiggo Herald, founded in 1797. [Music] Moving down Main Street, the tiny doctor's office stirs memories of daily rounds on horseback to distant hillside farms. Next door, the brick drugist shop pays tribute to the pioneer pharmacist. Filled with ornate and authentic furnishings complete with antiseptic aromas. The exhibit is made active by the sale of products like those prepared by the American drugist in the first third of the 19th century. Working with homegrown herbs, he followed instructions handed down from generation to generation. A fading ledger records the countless prescriptions filled by the village drugist. It is a journal of continuing service, for new entries are still being made with an old-fashioned quill pen. The pioneer pharmacist has written his profession into the history of life on the early frontier. [Music] No trip down this street of the past would be complete without a visit to the one room country schoolhouse built at the turn of the 19th century. Through the window can be seen the dun stool and beyond the teacher's desk. Here in a time when education was a simple training for a simple world, youngsters from neighboring farms learned the three Rs taught to the tune of a hickory stick. Pupils used slates and erasers of sheepkin tied over wood. But some things seem the same. Multiplication tables to copy and learn. The very heart of the settlement is the lipid homestead recreating the ways and means of a frontier farm. The everyday life of the pioneer wife is carried on within the house built about 1797. Using only utensils common 150 years ago, milk is heated and stirred by hand as it is converted into cheese by a tried andrue method. The bellows that stirred a dying fire. The medicinal herbs aging nearby. The hand dipped candles and reliable old hourglass. All these with drying ears of corn spelled home to our frontier forefathers. Flax, still grown today, was one of their most important crops. For it was flax, not money, that made possible new dresses and suits and bed sheets, even the cloth for covered wagons. Arranged in bundles, the flex first had to be laid out to dry. Transferred to the barn, it could be safely stored, sometimes for years, waiting to be transformed into linen thread. The first step was called braking. A heavy wooden machine called a flax brake was used to crush the stalk and remove the fiber. Breaking was followed by a process known as hetchling. The hetchel was a block of wood with sets of homemade spikes ranging from coarse to fine. Drawing the flax through the spikes removed both foreign matter and short coarse fibers. The combing completed. The shining silky strands that remained were ready for the spinning wheel. In a picturesque but tedious operation, the fibers were drawn out by the action of a spindle and twisted into thread. The strands were kept moist by dipping the fingers in a small cup of water. The foot treddle turned the spindle. A good day's work at the wheel produced an amazing 2400 yd of thread for a frontier family. Weaving the linen threads into textiles was done on a simple wooden loom. Working through the long winter months, the farm wife spun her unique designs. From her nimble fingers, out of the old loom flowed the creations that brightened many early American homes. A final fitting touch is the team of oxen pulling an ancient vintage covered wagon through the crossroads village. America's roots and heritage are deeply planted here at Coopertown, a tribute to thousands of 19th century communities that were scattered across America. The frightened, foul, and rumbling wheels do not seem out of place. Present and past live side by side, telling