In the sweltering summer of 1638, King Charles I granted a patent to Sara Jerome and her partner, marking the beginning of a centuries-long legacy of bandbox-making. These humble containers, crafted by anonymous hands, held within them a world of stories, waiting to be unpacked and cherished.
The bandbox, a staple of 19th-century travel, was more than just a practical storage solution. It was a symbol of newfound freedom for a feminine work force. It is a testament to the ingenuity and resilience of women who toiled tirelessly to make these treasured items.
In The East Hampton Star of June 2, 1893, a quaint article advised readers on the art of packing away summer clothing for winter storage. “When ready to pack winter millinery, visit a clothing store and obtain some strong and perfect bandboxes. . . .” But the article’s innocence belies the harsh realities of the women who made these boxes.
One such woman was Hannah Davis, a renowned entrepreneur and bandbox maker. When faced with privation after her father’s death, she had only a few things left to her. Ingeniously, she took some wallpaper samples and pasteboard and crafted these boxes for her own survival. She sold them to girls working at the mills for just a few pennies. “Aunt Hannah’s band boxes” set the standard for exceptional craftsmanship. Young women, leaving the farms and entering into the dawn of the industrial age, were thus armed with pretty, practical parcels made fit for newfangled travel by steam train.
The Clinton Academy in East Hampton houses a stunning collection of bandboxes, including a rare one made by Davis. The academy’s treasure trove of bandboxes is an excellent example of a cottage industry meeting the demands of a newly locomotive population. The collection is also a reminder that these practical traveling novelties became a ready way for wallpaper manufacturers to showcase the latest trends in interior decorating. Americans’ tastes in both design and morality were being shaped through the use of these storied containers.
But the story of bandboxes is not just one of beauty and craftsmanship; it is also a dark reminder of the cruelties of the new industrial age. Women and children, often working in squalid conditions, labored to make these boxes, earning mere pennies for their toil.
A heart-wrenching account from an 1889 article in Punch magazine offers a glimpse into the life of a bandbox maker:
“I found her in a miserable attic, with a wretched bed in one corner, and a rickety table in the other, covered with bandboxes in various stages of completion. She had 17 children, and was then engaged in making bandboxes to support them. I asked her when she slept, and she replied, ‘When I can.’ I asked her what she ate, and she said, ‘Weak tea.’ I asked her what she fed her children, and she said, ‘Even weaker tea.’ ”
This stark reality is a far cry from the idyllic scenes depicted on the bandboxes themselves. The juxtaposition of beautifully crafted boxes and their scenic images of halcyon days against the harsh reality of the women who made them is a powerful reminder of the social injustices of the Industrial Revolution.
The Southampton History Museum is home to a remarkable example of a bandbox, handmade and sewn together in a blanket stitch with waxed thread. The box is decorated with hand-blocked paper depicting a dramatic scene of a wild tiger hunt.
The Home, Sweet Home Museum is a remarkable repository of East Hampton’s history. In the upstairs bedroom are two antique bandboxes. One features a rare and intricate design depicting the 1830 creation of New York City’s first steam fire engine, #13. Another beautifully made bandbox shows a scenic image of a windmill, a happy marriage of practical and decorative visual storytelling.
As we delve into the world of bandboxes, we are reminded of the enduring power of women’s creativity, resilience, and determination.
Colette Gilbert McClain is a historian, educator, actor, writer, and period costume designer who lives in North Sea. She will appear as the Red Queen in a March 28 production of “Alice Through the Looking Glass” at the Unitarian Universalist meetinghouse in Southold.