PhillyHistory Blog – Page 18 – Discoveries from the City Archives

Entering America: The Washington Avenue Immigration Station

Post author By Mary
Post date January 21, 2009

In the early 1600s, Europeans began arriving in the Philadelphia area, inhabited at the time by members of the Lenape tribe. Over the next four hundred years, immigrants, affected by various social, political, geographic, and economic factors, would continue to leave their countries of origin and settle in Philadelphia. While the population of the United States grew throughout this time period, the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries saw an especially large boom in the growth of cities. As the American population shifted from predominantly rural to predominantly urban, immigrants also began settling in cities in large numbers.

Despite its location over a hundred miles from the ocean, Philadelphia served as the port of entry for 1.3 million immigrants from 1815 to 1985. In 1873, two steamship lines, the American Line and the Red Star line, began regular steamship service between Europe and Philadelphia. Other companies also began offering service to Philadelphia including the Hamburg-American Line, which operated runs between Hamburg, Germany and Philadelphia beginning in 1898. From 1873 until the enacting of stricter immigration quotas in 1924, over one million immigrants arrived in Philadelphia. These immigrants received health inspections at various locations on the Delaware River before disembarking at the immigration stations in Philadelphia and passing through customs.

The Washington Avenue Immigration Station, the first of these stations, was built by the Pennsylvania Railroad in the 1870s on a pier located where Washington Avenue approaches the Delaware River. After completing all their paperwork at the station, some immigrants found employment and housing in Philadelphia while others traveled on to different locations. Since the station was owned by the railroad, train tickets were readily available for purchase, and many immigrants chose to board trains for destinations throughout the United States. The Washington Avenue Station was demolished in 1915.

As in cities across the country, the increase in immigration to Philadelphia brought new cultural customs and traditions as well as ethnic and economic tensions that influenced the development of the city and continue to have an effect on American history and policy today.

Sources
Miller, Fredric M. “Immigration through the Port of Philadelphia.” In Forgotten Doors: The Other Ports of Entry to the United States, edited by M. Mark Stolarik, 37-54. Philadelphia: Balch Institute Press, 1988.

Miller, Fredric M. “Philadelphia: Immigrant City.” Balch Online Resources.

Sitarski, Stephen M. “From Weccacoe to South Philadelphia: The Changing Face of a Neighborhood.” Pennsylvania Legacies 7, no. 2 (November 2007).

Events and People

Poinsett and Smith and the 1914 Occupation of Veracruz

Post author By Mary
Post date January 10, 2009

With photographs of quiet neighborhood streets, busy commercial districts, schools, stores, trolleys, parks, and dozens of other aspects of daily urban life, the images on PhillyHistory.org provide a beautiful visual history of change and development in the communities throughout Philadelphia.

Often, though, there are photos on PhillyHistory.org that not only tell the story of Philadelphia’s past but also demonstrate the role that Philadelphians have played in events throughout the country and around the world. A series of photographs of the 1914 funeral of two sailors, George Poinsett and Charles Allen Smith, provides just one example of the internationally significant events depicted on PhillyHistory.

By 1914, the United States government had spent several years cautiously watching the Mexican Revolution and judging its possible impact on American citizens and business interests both in Mexico and along the border between the two countries. To protect these interests, the United States stationed U.S. Navy warships at the Mexican ports of Tampico and Vera Cruz in early 1914.^[1] At the same time, President Woodrow Wilson rescinded an arms embargo that had prevented the sale of arms to either General Victorio Huerta, who had seized power from the Mexican president in February 1913, or Governor Venustiano Carranza and Pancho Villa, supporters of the previous president who were attempting to wrest control of Mexico from Huerta. President Wilson offered to provide help to Carranza. When the US forces at Vera Cruz learned that German weapons would be arriving at Vera Cruz for Huerta, President Wilson ordered them to seize the town’s customhouse and capture the weapons.^[2]

On April 21, 1914, 787 marines and sailors went ashore to seize the customhouse and were fired upon by Mexican forces. By April 22, the American troops had occupied the town. In two days of fighting, 17 Americans were killed and 61 wounded. An estimated 152-172 Mexicans were killed and 195-240 wounded. American forces would continue to occupy Vera Cruz until November 1914.^[3]

Among the seventeen Americans killed during the initial occupation of Vera Cruz were Seaman George Poinsett and Ordinary Seaman Charles Allen Smith, both of Philadelphia. Eyewitnesses to the events stated that Poinsett was the first man killed during the occupation and “was shot by a Mexican sharpshooter while raising the flag on the Plaza following the first landing of marines.”^[4] After the battle, the bodies of the seventeen men arrived in New York City on May 11, 1914 aboard the battleship Montana. The coffins were placed on caissons and then traveled from the Montana at Pier A past City Hall to the Navy Yard. At the Navy Yard, President Woodrow Wilson delivered a funeral oration during a ceremony that was attended by the Governor of New York, the Secretary of the Navy, and various other officials and citizens.^[5]

After the ceremony, the bodies of the men were shipped to their relatives. As shown in the photographs on PhillyHistory.org, Poinsett and Smith were given a funeral in Philadelphia with a procession beginning at Independence Square. Unfortunately, there are few additional details available about the ceremony.

The American occupation of Vera Cruz in 1914 may not be as well known as other military events in United States history. At the time of its occurrence, however, it signaled America’s increased involvement in political and military affairs in Mexico. These photographs on PhillyHistory.org show Philadelphia’s connection to one international event that significantly impacted relations between Mexico and the United States and influenced future actions between the countries.

[1] Yockelson, Mitchell. “The United States Armed Forces and the Mexican Punitive Expedition: Part 1.” Prologue 29:3, Fall 1997.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Russel, Thomas Herbert. Mexico in Peace and War. Sumner C. Britton: Chicago, 1914, p. 22.

[5] New York Times. “Vera Cruz Dead Here on Warship.” May 11, 1914.

Entertainment

The Dempsey-Tunney Fight of 1926

Post author By Mary
Post date January 1, 2009

Among the many events at the Sesquicentennial, perhaps none drew as much attention and publicity as the world’s heavyweight title fight between defending champion Jack Dempsey and challenger Gene Tunney. Held at the Sesquicentennial Municipal Stadium on September 23, 1926, the boxing match drew a crowd of over 120,000 people and became one of the best known fights of the 1920s.

Although Tex Rickard, the promoter for the fight, originally investigated staging the match in Chicago or Jersey City, he eventually arranged for it to be held on September 16, 1926 at Yankee Stadium in New York. These arrangements had to be abandoned, however, when the License Committee of the New York State Athletic Commission refused to issue Dempsey a license to box in New York. Rather than fight the decision in court, Rickard chose to accept the offer of E.L. Austin, Director of the Sesquicentennial, to hold the match at the Municipal Stadium in Philadelphia on September 23.^[1]

The decision to move the match to Philadelphia was warmly welcomed by residents of the city. Boxing was hugely popular in the 1920s. As Tunney prepared for his match with Dempsey, a crowd of 2,000 people came just to watch him spar twelve rounds with two workout partners on August 15, 1926.^[2] On that same day, more than 1,000 people paid $1 each plus tax to watch Dempsey during his workout at Saratoga Springs, New York.^[3] The New York Times published 75 articles on the fight preparations in August and September alone and ran a three-tiered front page headline as well as nine full pages of coverage the day after the fight.^[4] While tickets to the fight sold quickly, not everyone approved of the bout being held at the Sesquicentennial. One letter to the New York Times argued that the fight was being held to “bolster up deficient receipts” at the Sesquicentennial and that it was “disgraceful and humiliating (or should be) to the American people.”^[5]

Plenty of Americans did not find the fight disgraceful or humiliating at all. The match was attended by both the mayor of Philadelphia and the mayor of New York City as well as Pennsylvania Governor Pinchot, several other governors from across the country, Secretary of the Navy Curtis D. Wilbur, and many millionaires and members of well-known families.^[6] Extra trains brought crowds from New York, New Jersey, Chicago, and dozens of other places. People around the world eagerly listened for radio and telegraph reports regarding the outcome of the match.

After ten rounds fought in the pouring rain, Tunney defeated Dempsey to claim the title of world’s heavy-weight champion. Although the match did not end in a knockout, Tunney is said to have been “a complete master, from first bell to last. He out-boxed and he out-fought Dempsey at every turn.”^[7] In meticulous detail, the New York Times summarizes the fight and notes Tunney’s strategic and calculated responses to the more rushed and ineffectual charges by Dempsey. One year later on September 22, 1927, Tunney would successfully defend his title and defeat Dempsey again at Soldier Field in Chicago in a fight that came to be known as The Long Count.

The Dempsey-Tunney boxing match drew incredible crowds to the Sesquicentennial and demonstrates the extreme popularity of boxing during the 1920s. The Philadelphia Chamber of Commerce estimated that the crowds likely brought an additional $3,000,000 in revenue to city businesses through purchases of meals, hotel rooms, train and taxi rides, and other items.^[8] The match helped boost Sesquicentennial attendance numbers while also showing that many members of the public now favored public sporting events to world’s fairs as a way to spend their leisure time and money.

[1] New York Times, “Dempsey Title Bout Suddenly Shifted to Philadelphia.” August 19, 1926.

[2] New York Times, “Tunney Boxes Twelve Rounds; 2,000 Attend the Workout.” August 16, 1926.

[3] New York Times, “1,000 Pay $1 Each to Watch Dempsey.” August 16, 1926.

[4] Pope, Steven W. “Negotiating the ‘Folk Highway’ of the Nation: Sport, Public Culture and American Identity, 1870-1940.” Journal of Social History Vol 27 No 2. (Winter, 1993): p. 327-340.

[5] French, Joseph Lewis. “Disapproval of Sesqui Fight.” New York Times. September 12, 1926.

[6] Davis, Elmer. “Victory is Popular One.” New York Times. September 24, 1926.

[7] Dawson, James P. “Tunney Always Master.” New York Times. September 24, 1926.

[8] New York Times. “Philadelphia Sees Bout a Great Boon.” September 25, 1926.

Historic Sites Urban Planning

Broad Street Station

While intercity travel today primarily involves the automobile or airplane, a century ago the passenger train represented the principal mode of long distance travel. The increasing volume of rail passengers in the late 1800’s required railroads to find efficient ways of delivering passengers to their destinations. In Philadelphia, the problem for the Pennsylvania Railroad was the lack of a station that would deliver passengers directly into Center City Philadelphia. In 1879, the railroad devised a plan to construct a large passenger station at Broad and Market Streets, directly opposite City Hall. The station would be connected by multiple tracks to the Pennsylvania Railroad station located in West Philadelphia, across the Schuylkill River¹. The extension would have required numerous street crossings, starting at 23^rd St. and going eastward towards Broad Street. To avoid both the safety hazard of street crossings and the potential bottleneck they would create for the numerous passenger trains, it was decided to construct the tracks on an elevated embankment. Large granite blocks were used to enclose the embankment and over time the structure was often referred to as the “Chinese Wall” because of its resemblance to the Great Wall of China². In later years this structure would become the bane of city planners because it was viewed as an impediment to development of the area north of Market Street³.

Broad Street Station was officially opened on December 5, 1881⁴. The brick station was of Gothic design with a rather ornate Victorian appearance. Behind the station were four train sheds to protect passengers from the elements. The station was an immediate success, boasting 160 daily trains⁵. The volume of passenger traffic steadily increased, so that by 1886, the number of passengers using the station averaged a million per month⁶. As a consequence, in 1892, a mere eleven years after its opening, plans were submitted for the enlargement of the station. An office building that would serve as the Pennsylvania Railroad’s headquarters was designed by noted architect Frank Furness and added to the existing station⁷. The smaller train sheds were replaced by one massive train shed 306 feet wide and 591 feet long. The roof, made of wood and glass, was at its highest point 100 feet above the tracks⁸.

Already by 1910, the 16 tracks of the station saw 578 arrivals and departures daily⁹. At the same time, the success of Broad Street Station brought with it a number of problems. While it served well as a final stop for commuter traffic into Center City, it was inconvenient and time consuming for through trains because they were required to retrace their steps to West Philadelphia Station before continuing on their journey. The stub-ended design of Broad Street required arriving locomotives to back up and be turned on a turntable before they could depart, creating additional congestion. A partial solution was provided by the railroad’s electrification, allowing the use of multiple-unit commuter trains which could operate in either direction.

On June 11, 1923, a fire broke out below the station platforms and quickly spread to the train shed, engulfing the entire structure in flames. Within hours of the fire, the Pennsylvania Railroad marshaled a work force of some 3500 men to begin repairing the station. Within five days, all tracks and platforms were restored. The weakened train shed was dismantled and replaced with umbrella shelters¹⁰. However, the handwriting was on the wall for Broad Street Station.

Within two years, the Pennsylvania Railroad started drawing up an ambitious plan, referred to as the “Philadelphia Improvements,” that called for the construction of 30^th Street Station as the railroad’s main passenger station in Philadelphia, replacing the West Philadelphia station¹¹. The plan also called for the elimination of Broad Street Station, replacing it with an underground station for commuter trains, known as Broad Street Suburban Station (but usually referred to simply as Suburban Station). By 1929, the excavation for the trackwork leading to Suburban Station had begun, parallel to the north side of the Chinese Wall. A year later, the construction of 30^th Street Station across the Schuylkill River began, and Broad Street Station’s days were numbered. Surprisingly, the station was used for two more decades before finally closing on April 27, 1952. Aboard the last train from the station rode the Philadelphia Orchestra, led by Eugene Ormandy conducting a rendition of “Auld Lange Syne”¹². Within a year, the station was demolished, making way for Penn Plaza and a series of high rise office buildings.

[1] Pennypacker, Bert (December 1983). “The Grandest Railway Terminal in America”. Trains (Kalmbach Publishing Co.): 40-57. ISSN 0041-0934.

[2] Albrecht, Harry P. [1972] (1976). Broad Street Station. Clifton Heights, Pennsylvania: Harry P. Albrecht. p. 3.

[3] Underkofler, Allen P (1987). “The Philadelphia Improvements, Part I”. The High Line (Philadelphia Chapter, Pennsylvania Railroad Technical and Historical Society) 2 (2 & 3). p. 5.

[4] Albrecht, p. 3.

[5] Pennypacker, p. 44.

[6] Ibid., p. 45.

[7] Messer, David W. (2000). Triumph III: Philadelphia Terminal 1838-2000. Baltimore, Maryland: Barnard, Roberts & Co. ISBN 0-934118-25-6

[8] Pennypacker, pp. 46-47.

[9] Ibid., p. 49.

[10] Ibid., pp. 51-52.

[11] Underkofler, pp. 6-15.

[12] Pennypacker, p. 57.

Historic Sites

Mapping the Sesquicentennial

Post author By Mary
Post date December 2, 2008

Many of the photographs in the Philadelphia Department of Records City Archives’ collection are associated with a particular location. As photographers from the City’s Photography Unit traveled around Philadelphia capturing images of construction projects, school yards, busy commercial districts, and residential areas, they often noted the address or intersection where the photograph was taken. The other collections available on PhillyHistory.org- the photographs from the Philadelphia Water Department, the property maps from the Department of Records, and the historic maps from the Free Library- are also very geographic in nature and usually connected to a specific place in the city. Using the address or intersection associated with an image, a photo can be geocoded (mapped) to that location. Once a photograph has been geocoded in PhillyHistory.org, it can be found using the address or neighborhood search, making it convenient to view photos or maps based on the location where they were taken.Like the other photographs and maps on PhillyHistory.org, the collection of photographs from the Sesquicentennial International Exposition has a geographic element. The majority of the photographs were taken on the Sesquicentennial grounds in the area around the intersection of Broad Street and Pattison Avenue by present-day FDR Park and the stadiums. Many of the photographs depict buildings, attractions, or exhibits at the Sesquicentennial but do not give specific addresses or intersections where these places were located. Thanks to the staff at the City Archives, a copy of the Sesqui-Centennial International Exposition General Plan was located (also available in the “Sesquicentennial Exposition” article on Wikipedia). This plan, published in the Sesquicentennial Promotional Booklet 1926, provided a map of many of the buildings on the Sesquicentennial grounds and showed the main roads that ran through the area- Broad Street, Pattison Avenue, Packer Avenue, and Moyamensing Avenue.While those four streets have remained the same, the rest of the area had changed considerably from the time of the Sesquicentennial in 1926 to the present. Streets that were created for the Sesquicentennial no longer exist, and areas that were open land in 1926 are now filled with roads and buildings. Using the Sesquicentennial General Plan, it was easy to see where the buildings existed in 1926, but the changing landscape made it much trickier to match those 84 year old locations with a Philadelphia street map from 2008. Since the geocoding system uses current street maps, it was necessary to find some way to sync the older map with the newer map in order to accurately geocode the photographs.

The solution to the problem came in the form of a piece of Geographic Information Systems (GIS) mapping software. One of the PhillyHistory.org software developers used the software to overlay the historic Sesquicentennial map with a current Philadelphia street map. To ensure that the maps had the same orientation, he found several points that were in the same location on both maps- the intersections of Oregon Avenue and Moyamensing Avenue, Broad Street and Packer Avenue, and Broad Street and Pattison Avenue. By lining up the two maps using these three intersections, a reliable composite map of the two images was made. To download a copy of the map, visit Azavea Commons. Azavea is the software company who created PhillyHistory.org for the Philadelphia Department of Records.

This two-layer map proved to be a valuable tool for geocoding the Sesquicentennial photographs. Using the historic map, PhillyHistory.org staff could see that the Nuremberg section of the Exposition was located south of Packer Avenue and several blocks west of Broad Street but could not determine a more accurate location. With the two-layer map, however, it was easy to see that the Nuremberg area was located precisely at what is now the intersection of 18^th Street and Schley Street. Thanks to the assistance of the software developers and Archives staff, the PhillyHistory.org team was able to geocode a large number of Sesquicentennial photos, making them easy to locate on PhillyHistory.org and providing an illustration of how technology can help us relate the past to the present.

Historic Sites

From Shipways to Runways: the Transformation of Hog Island, Part Two

Post author By Christopher Dougherty
Post date November 25, 2008

Whether it was the poor conditions of the site or a tough winter or contractors’ graft, preparatory construction began to drag on interminably, leading Congress to investigate the goings on at Hog Island. By February of 1918, seven months after the issuance of Hog Island’s contract, a New York Times reporter touring the site was surprised to hear no sound of rivets on steel and only 12 of the planned 50 shipways completed.^[1] The Shipping Board’s chief constructor had investigated the site a month earlier and cynically announced that it would be a wonder if the yard produced a ship “at all” in 1918. Compounding the frustration was the mounting cost of doing nearly anything on Hog Island, mainly the result of the cost-plus-profit contract system that placed expediency before oversight. Initially, the American International Corporation estimated the cost of the yard at $35,000,000. By the time the first ship came off the ways on December 3, 1918—almost a month after the Armistice—the cost of constructing the site had ballooned to $66 million. In their defense, the officers of the American International Corporation began to take a long view of the utility of the site. Perhaps not of great service to the war effort, Hog Island would be a boon to Philadelphia. At a meeting of the Philadelphia Chamber of Commerce, the chairman of the American International Shipbuilding Corporation promised postwar employment for 100,000 Philadelphians. Hog Island, he argued, would make Philadelphia the greatest shipbuilding center in the world.^[2]

Despite the rancor surrounding the yard’s construction and operation, Hog Island only existed because of the backbreaking labor of nearly 30,000 workers laboring throughout the cold winter of 1917-1918. Before the canteens and the YMCA, there were rough accommodations and hardship. Steam injections softened the frozen ground before workers could excavate for sewer lines. Other workers waded into the cold Delaware to dig out the channels for the shipways. Simultaneous to the attention-grabbing headlines of mismanagement and corporate greed was the untold story of a unique identity forming among the “Hoggies”. They worked among their friends—blacks, Italians, Polish, Irish, and Germans—all under the glaring eyes of the foreman, the engineer, and the military policeman. And though they may have lived in barracks near where they worked, they brought their traditions, faith, and foods such as the bulky fortifying sandwich that took on the island’s name. On December 23, 1918, the boys band from St. Francis Xavier-Holy Name parishes played for a flag raising in the bitter cold. During their down time, the Hog Islanders squared off on the gridiron against the other military installations up and down the river. Much like the soldiers in the field, the “Hoggies” who worked the shipways during the war were forced to coexist and cooperate, drawing strength from the uniqueness of their difficult work.^[3]

Although massive preparation time meant that the $66 million Hog Island Yard failed to produce a single ship during wartime, the yard continued its contract assembling 122 ships from prefabricated parts. Most of these sturdy utilitarian Hog Islanders saw action in World War II but suffered high losses. Despite assurances that Hog Island would turn Philadelphia into the Clyde of America, the shipways went silent in 1921 and the timbering and piers beginning to rot, vegetation growing up through the corduroy roads. In 1925, the City purchased land near Hog Island for a municipal airfield to handle the growing traffic in passenger planes. Eyeing the derelict Hog Island property to the south with its rail lines and shipways still intact, members of the Philadelphia Business Progress Committee began advocating for an air-marine-rail terminal on the site of the old shipyard. In 1930, the City paid $3 million for the flat, well-prepared Hog Island site. As the airport expanded, its runways devoured the entire Hog Island shipyard—one monstrous technological machine consuming another.

[1] “Senate Committee to Go to Hog Island, Piez Shows Big Financial Affiliations of the Corporation’s Directors,” The New York Times, 16 February 1918.

[2] James J. Martin, “The Saga of Hog Island, 1917-1920: The Story of the First Great War Boondoggle,” The Saga of Hog Island: And Other Essays in Inconvenient History (Colorado Springs, Co: Ralph Myles, 1977). http://tmh.floonet.net/articles/hogisle.shtml

[3] “Hog Island,” Philadelphia Record Photograph Collection, Historical Society of Pennsylvania. Although there are contrary claims, linguist William Labov has demonstrated that the lexical root of the word “hoagie” was “hog-“ or “hogg” after World War I. See William Labov, “Pursuing the Cascade Model,” 25 November 2002, http://www.ling.upenn.edu/~wlabov/Papers/PCM.html. This is also borne out in Eames, Edwin and Howard Robboy. 1967. “The sociocultural context of an American dietary item.” The Cornell Journal of Social Relations 2:63-75, p. 4.

Historic Sites

From Shipways to Runways: the Transformation of Hog Island, Part One

Post author By Christopher Dougherty
Post date November 25, 2008

Soon after America declared war on Germany in April 1917, songwriter George M. Cohan released his jaunty, rousing call to arms “Over There”. But despite the popular fervor to take the fight to Europe, the U.S. did not possess the merchant fleet to make war “over there.” With only 430 cargo and passenger ships in its merchant marine, America relied on foreign ships for nearly 90 percent of its overseas trade.^[1] Successful German U-boat campaigns in the early months of the war exacerbated the shortage.

With a meager merchant fleet unprepared to serve its troops overseas, the Wilson administration turned to the private sector for assistance. Eventually the government would run 132 shipyards spending over $200 million on ship construction. But no yard was more ambitious and controversial than Hog Island, where the Philadelphia International Airport is presently located. On 31 July 1917, under the aegis of the Emergency Fleet Corporation, the government lavished a multimillion dollar contract on a nebulous conglomerate, the American International Corporation, to construct a massive shipyard on boggy land a company subsidiary had advantageously purchased two months earlier. Paying twenty times the assessed value for the land, the American International Shipbuilding Corporation set its dredges to work. Ceaselessly throughout the summer and fall of 1917, the dredges bolstered the flat island with millions of tons of Delaware River spoil.^[2]

From the perspective of the popular press, the process of turning the 860-acre tract “where formerly the song of the mosquito was the only sound to greet the ear of the surveyor or fisherman” into a teeming military industrial complex inspired the same pride in America as Cohan’s martial ditty. National Geographic called Hog Island a “wonderful industrial center” in September 1918. The Historical Outlook, a magazine for teachers published in Philadelphia noted where once was “a low lying unsanitary swamp—merely a strip of wasteland” stood forth the next summer “the greatest shipyard in the world.” In many ways, Hog Island was a projection of early 20^th century American idealism—capital, technology, and scientific management in the service of progress.

But in other ways, Hog Island was too big for its own good. The contractual obligation to supply “at least” 200 ships meant massive expenditures for site preparation and infrastructure were needed. Writers were fond of hyperbolic comparisons of the yard’s infrastructure to major American cities. Hog Island’s electrical power plant was sufficient to light the combined needs of Albany, NY and Richmond, VA. Its water system could deliver twice the capacity of the city of Atlanta. Its sewer system was equal to that of Minneapolis. With its 70 miles of rail lines sustaining twenty locomotives and 465 freight cars, 250 buildings, 3,000,000 feet of underground wiring, a hospital, trade school, 12 canteens and restaurants, hotel, 5 mess halls, and telephone traffic equal to a town of 140,000, comparisons to a small city were apt.^[3]

[1] “Ugly Ducklings,” Time, 13 January 1941.

[3] Ralph A. Graves, “Ships for the Seven Seas: The story of America’s Maritime Needs, Her Capabilities, and Her Achievements,” The National Geographic Magazine, Vol. XXXIV, No. 3, September, 1918.

“A Few Facts About Hog Island: the Greatest Shipyard in the World,” the American International Shipbuilding Corporation, 5 August 1918.

Historic Sites

Recreating the Philadelphia of 1776

Post author By Mary
Post date November 13, 2008

The preparations for the Sesquicentennial as well as all the events, activities, and buildings that were a part of the celebration required a large amount of organization and management. The administration of the Sesquicentennial was performed by a Board of Directors, an Executive Committee, and a variety of individual committees (including the Automobile Traffic Committee, Music Committee, and Publicity Committee) that managed specific areas of the Exposition.

Although the Board of Directors and various committees included female members, a separate Women’s Committee was also formed on October 16, 1925. The group originally included one hundred members appointed by Mayor W. Freeland Kendrick, the Mayor of Philadelphia and President of the Sesquicentennial, with Mrs. J. Willis Martin serving as leader of the Women’s Board. On February 8, 1926, the group decided to become a large general committee. This committee would eventually have over two thousands members and include over forty sub-committees.^[1]

Among their many contributions, the Women’s Committee promoted the Sesquicentennial across the country, served as hostesses and greeters at several Exposition buildings, and established and maintained information booths at hotels, railroad stations, and other locations across Philadelphia.^[2] The Women’s Committee, as well as many members of the Board of Directors and visitors to the Exposition, considered their greatest contribution to be the construction and management of High Street, a recreation of High Street (later known as Market Street) in Philadelphia in 1776 that included 20 houses, the Market Place, the Town Hall, and several gardens. Each house such as the Girard Counting House, Franklin Print Shoppe, and Jefferson House was maintained by a different women’s organization and decorated in a style consistent with the Revolutionary period.^[3] Activities on the street included appearances by the town crier, daily marionette performances, and weekly pageants. High Street saw a large amount of visitors during the Sesquicentennial and one newspaper reporter wrote that “here is another place to linger, and many do linger.”^[4]

While High Street attracted many visitors, it also presented an idealized view of American history. Dirt, lawlessness, discord, and injustice did not exist in the reconstructed High Street. One hostess who spoke with visitors on High Street saw the reconstruction as a way to demonstrate that the country’s beginnings were dignified rather than chaotic and tawdry.^[5] High Street at the Sesquicentennial was one of several living history museums and parks that were formed beginning in the 1920s. These institutions, such as Colonial Williamsburg and Greenfield Village, would prove popular among visitors but also become the object of debate regarding the accuracy of their representations of history.

As an attraction at the Sesquicentennial, High Street showed the commitment of large numbers of women and women’s organizations to the Exposition. Although the Sesquicentennial did not achieve financial success and suffered from disorganization and low attendance, High Street proved to be a popular attraction according to the fair’s organizers who stated that it “was a source of renewed confidence in the deep foundations of American life, and as such it undoubtedly had a lasting effect on the millions who visited it.”^[6]

[1] Austin, E.L. and Odell Hauser, Editors. The Sesqui-Centennial International Exposition: A Record Based on Official Data and Departmental Reports. Philadelphia: Current Publications, Inc., 1929, p. 153.

[2] Ibid., 157-158.

[3] Ibid., 161-162.

[4] The New York Times. “Sesquicentennial is Now Complete.” August 22, 1926.

[5] Conn, Steven. Museums and American Intellectual Life: 1876-1926. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998, 241.

[6] Austin, E.L. and Odell Hauser, Editors. The Sesqui-Centennial International Exposition: A Record Based on Official Data and Departmental Reports. Philadelphia: Current Publications, Inc., 1929, p. 20.

Events and People

Lillian Copeland: Sesquicentennial Athletic Star

Post author By Mary
Post date October 28, 2008

Among the many events and activities at the Sesquicentennial were several athletic competitions held at the Municipal Stadium at the intersection of Broad Street and Pattison Avenue. These competitions included everything from track and field meets to the world heavy-weight boxing championship between Jack Dempsey and Gene Tunney to a lacrosse match between the Caughnawaga Indians of Canada and the Onondaga Tribe of Syracuse.^[1]

In early July 1926, National and Olympic caliber athletes traveled to Philadelphia to compete in the women’s, senior men’s, and junior men’s American Athletic Union (A.A.U.) National Track and Field Championships. During the competition, the athletes faced extreme heat mixed with rain, conditions which prevented many spectators from attending the meets. Despite the weather conditions, world, American, and meet records were broken by the athletes.^[2]

Lillian Copeland, one of the world record breakers, was a star of the 1926 Women’s National Track and Field Championships held at the Sesquicentennial. A member of the Pasadena (CA) Athletic Club, Copeland broke the world record in javelin with a throw of 112 feet 5.5 inches. On that same day, July 10, 1926, she also won both the discus and shot put competitions to become the only triple winner of the day.^[3]During her career, Copeland won a total of nine AAU National Championships- five in shot put, two in javelin, and two in discus. She is often considered to be one of the first great female American weight throwers.^[4] The 1926 competition in Philadelphia was the only championship in which she won all three weights events.

Copeland’s skill also made her competitive on an international level. At the 1928 Olympics in Amsterdam, Copeland won a silver medal in discus with a throw of 121 feet 8 inches.^[5] In 1932 at the Los Angeles Olympics, she won gold in discus with a world-record setting throw of 133 feet 2 inches.^[6] Copeland was the only American woman to win an Olympic gold medal in discus until the 2008 Beijing Olympics when American Stephanie Brown-Trafton won gold with a throw of 212 feet 5 inches.^[7]

After her success in the 1932 Olympics, Copeland competed in the second Maccabiah Games in 1935, a competition for Jewish athletes, where she won gold. The next year Copeland joined several other Jewish athletes in a boycott of the 1936 Olympics in Berlin, making the Maccabiah Games her last major competition.^[8] After her athletic career, Copeland worked for the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department as a juvenile officer. She passed away on July 7, 1964 and was inducted into the U.S. Track and Field Hall of Fame in 1994.

[2] Kelley, Robert F. “2 More Records Set in Women’s Meet.” The New York Times. July 11, 1926.

[3] Ibid.

[4] “Lillian Copeland.” Hall of Fame- USA Track and Field. http://www.usatf.org/halloffame/TF/showBio.asp?HOFIDs=34

[5] “Lillian Copeland.” International Jewish Sports Hall of Fame. http://www.jewishsports.net/biopages/LillianCopeland.htm

[6] Shaffer, George. “U.S. Wins 2 Olympic Titles; Records Fall.” The New York Times. August 3, 1932.

[7] Crumpacker, John. “U.S. Women’s 1^st Discus Gold Since ’32.” The San Francisco Chronicle. August 19, 2008.

[8] “Lillian Copeland.” International Jewish Sports Hall of Fame. http://www.jewishsports.net/biopages/LillianCopeland.htm

Events and People

USS Los Angeles: A Naval Dirigible

Post author By Mary
Post date October 20, 2008

With the Exposition grounds located adjacent to the Navy Yard at League Island, the U.S. Navy and the military in general were very involved in the Sesquicentennial Exposition. The Navy developed a Navy Historical Exhibit in one of the buildings in the yard, and several different types of ships were moored at the Reserve Basin near Navy Yard. Camp Anthony Wayne, a model Army camp, was created in League Island Park and Camp Samuel Nicholas, a model Marine camp, was located just outside the Navy Yard within the grounds of the Exposition.^[1]

The U.S. Navy’s contributions to the Sesquicentennial also included a visit from the Navy’s dirigible the Los Angeles. On Friday, September 10, the dirigible flew over Philadelphia, circled part of the Exposition several times, and then landed on the Exposition grounds with the help of a landing party of 200 sailors. Under the control of Commander Charles H. Rosendahl, the dirigible’s home port was located in Lakehurst, New Jersey. After the visit to the Sesquicentennial, the Los Angeles traveled to Stroudsburg, PA where the State American Legion was in session.^[2]

The golden age of dirigibles, also known as rigid airships and zeppelins, occurred from roughly 1900 until the 1930s. The first dirigible successfully lifted off on November 3, 1897 near Berlin, Germany. Although this dirigible crashed shortly after lift off, governments in several countries continued to investigate the use of dirigibles or rigid airships for military and transportation purposes. By the early twentieth century, the German company Luftschiffbau Zeppelin was the major manufacturer of rigid airships. These dirigibles would serve as both weapons and observational tools during World War I. Germany used dirigibles to drop bombs on Paris and London while both France and England used semi-rigid and non-rigid airships to patrol their coasts, provide convoy protection, and spot enemy submarines.^[3]

After World War I, mandates prevented Germany from building dirigibles. The United States government, however, allowed the Zeppelin company to build one airship that would be given to the United States by Germany as partial war reparations.^[4] As part of the agreement between the nations, the ship was to be used only for “civil” purposes. Built in Friedrichshafen, Germany, the rigid airship was 2,472,000 cubic feet and completed in August 1924.^[5] Known initially as the ZR-3, the ship flew across the Atlantic in mid-October 1924 and docked at its home port of Lakehurst, New Jersey. The airship flew to Washington D.C. on November 25 where it was christened the Los Angeles by Mrs. Calvin Coolidge, the wife of the president, and then placed into naval commission by Rear Admiral B.F. Hutchinson.^[6] During its career in the U.S. Navy, the Los Angeles performed flights to explore the use of rigid airships in the military. The airship also made several trips across the US and took part in research into the possibility of basing airplanes on board airships. In late 1932, the Los Angeles was decommissioned and put into storage at Lakehurst, New Jersey. From 1934 to 1937, the airship participated in non-flying experiments before finally being dismantled beginning in October 1939.^[7]

While little is known about the visit of the Los Angeles to the Sesquicentennial, its appearance at the Exposition provides an illustration of the growth of airship manufacturing in the early decades of the twentieth century. Along with the Los Angeles, the U.S. Navy operated other rigid airships including the Shenandoah (destroyed on September 3, 1925 in a storm over Ohio) and two ships built by the Goodyear Tire and Rubber Company- the Akron (lost in a storm over the Atlantic Ocean on April 4, 1933) and the Macon (crashed in the Pacific Ocean on February 12, 1935).^[8] After the 1930s and the Hindenburg disaster on May 9, 1937, interest in rigid airships declined in favor of further investigation into a variety of airplanes and aircraft carriers.

[2] Ibid., p. 303.

[3] Rumerman, Judy. “The Era of the Dirigible.” U.S. Centennial of Flight Commission. http://www.centennialofflight.gov/essay/Lighter_than_air/dirigibles/LTA9.htm

[4] Ibid.

[5] “USS Los Angeles (ZR-3), Airship 1924-1939.” Department of the Navy- Naval Historical Center. http://www.history.navy.mil/photos/ac-usn22/z-types/zr3.htm

[6] The Washington Post. “ZR-3 is Christened ‘Los Angeles’ and Dedicated to Peace.” November 26, 1924.

[7] “USS Los Angeles (ZR-3), Airship 1924-1939.” Department of the Navy- Naval Historical Center. http://www.history.navy.mil/photos/ac-usn22/z-types/zr3.htm

[8] Rumerman, Judy. “The Era of the Dirigible.” U.S. Centennial of Flight Commission. http://www.centennialofflight.gov/essay/Lighter_than_air/dirigibles/LTA9.htm