The 18th Century Shoemaker, by Amber Perry

I'm fascinated with the trades of the 18th century. So many important jobs had to be done everyday just to keep people's lives running. Of course, that's not unlike today, but the jobs back then--though similar in some respects were oh, so different.

Today I want to talk about the shoemaker. This humble profession was anything but dreary and certainly not looked down upon as one might thing. The shoemaker was an integral part of the community. From the lowly farmer to the high-society nobleman, everyone needed shoes-- and so everyone visited the shoemaker. Granted, if you were ultra wealthy you may have hired-out your own personal shoemaker, but that certainly wasn't the norm.

The tools needed for the trade were inexpensive for the most part, and easy to obtain if you lived next to a larger city where imports from England were a regular occurrence. For a journeyman shoemaker it would have been an inexpensive trade to start, whereas other trades such as printing or blacksmithing would have been very difficult financially.



Like today, you could often walk into a shoemaker shop and find already made, popular-styled shoes in various sizes. (Like the ones pictured at the top of this post--hanging in the shop window.) If you couldn't find what you were looking for, you could have them custom made, but then of course you would have to wait a day or so, depending on the workload of the shop. Everything from riding boots, to soldiering boots, to every-day shoes, to children's shoes, to women's dress shoes--the shoemaker made them all. And though at times we look at the shoes from that century and wonder how they could be at all comfortable, having been made with leather (though some were made of fabrics, etc) that conforms to your feet, I imagine they weren't quite as bad as we think. Yet, without proper souls and arch support . . . who knows! Perhaps they were terribly uncomfortable. I've never worn a pair, so I can't speak from experience. (Makes me curious though . . .)

What do you think of this trade? Is it something you would have been interested in? Personally, I think it would have been fun, creative and rewarding.

There is another excellent and recent post about this trade by Susan Craft, and her post can be seen here if you are looking for additional information.

Please leave a comment below and let me know what you think!

Blessings!

Shipbuilding in Colonial America

Shipbuilding was an important enterprise in Colonial America and quickly grew into one of the most thriving industries of our young United States.  East coast settlements as well as those in Philadelphia and New Hampshire provided protected harbors and bays, small coves and riverbanks, all suitable for construction.  Dense forests provided the necessary raw materials.

Building a brigantine

The simple shallops of the Pilgrim era soon diversified into small utility craft for local work and smaller boats for fishing and for transporting people and goods among the colonies.  At the turn of the eighteen century, a small sloop typically weighed about 35 tons, but by century’s end, experienced shipbuilders had begun contracting heartier seagoing vessels of up to 200 or more tons.  The need for vessels increased and soon every seaport on the Atlantic coast was constructing wooden ships.  Timber grew scarce in England, and it became cheaper to purchase vessels built in the colonies.  Before the American Revolution, about one-third of the British merchant fleet had been built in America.

The production of these vessels required the skills of various tradesmen and industries, beginning with the Shipwright who drafted the design and directed the craftsmen in their work.  A great number of shipwrights were born with shipbuilding in their blood.  From an early age they received hands-on training in the family shipyard, many of these yards having been passed down from generation to generation.  Others honed their skills through an apprenticeship.  Ship design required a genius for mathematics and geometry with its countless calculations.  A shipwright had to assure the ship would float, taking into account the hull’s volume and height.  He strove to increase the vessel’s forward motion while carrying a maximum amount of cargo.  And he must have a talent for drawing and drafting to create the life-sized patterns the builders would follow. Although it took about 20-30 craftsmen and able-bodied workers to complete a vessel, it was the master shipwright who remained in control.

Once plans had been drawn, Sawyers were hired, also known as “saw gangs.”  These men were sent to chop down oak and pine timbers to match the drawing’s measurements.  They cut the wood to the pattern’s size and seasoned the planks.  White pine made for the choicest masts, while yellow pine was best used for decks for its high resin content and resistance to sun and salt.  Hackmatack roots were utilized for their naturally crooked growth.  They fashioned the angular pieces and gave strength to “knees” which supported deck timbers and braces.

One of the oldest tools of ship construction was called an adze.  It was a type of axe with a long-shaped blade and bore a slight curve near its handle.  Adzemen were skilled craftsmen employed in shaping and smoothing the timbers of wood.

Driving in the trunnels

The vessel’s frame was built primarily of oak.  Carpenters laid the keel—the vessel’s backbone which consisted of a long, curved beam that ran along the bottom from bow to stern.  Joiners scarfed two pieces of wood together to fashion a solid beam the exact length of the keel.  The vessel’s ribs were next fastened to the keel, completing the vessel’s framework.  The ribs were covered with oak planks, steamed and softened to render them pliable and capable of being curved to assure a form fit.  The planks were fastened with wooden pegs called trunnels or tree nails.  Borers drilled the holes and Fasteners drove in the trunnels.  Dubbers smoothed and planed the surfaces, and finally the Caulkers were called to drive oakum between the planks with a flat-edged caulking iron and mallet.  Oakum was a pitch substance consisting of tarred hemp fibers.  Oakum Boys carried the pails of pitch.  The seams and cracks around the trunnels would next be sealed with boiling pine tar to make them watertight.  Finally, the hardened surfaces were scraped until smooth.

A launch in 1751

Launchings were grand affairs.  Businesses and schools closed for the day so the locals could come out to watch.  Standing on the riverbank and supported by a huge cradle, the vessel would be held in place by a set of stocks resembling extremely wide railroad tracks.  The owner would speak a few words to the crowd, then the minister would confer a blessing and a sponsor would be chosen to christen the ship by name.  The restraints were cut away, the blocks removed, and the vessel inched down the greased stocks into the sea with a great splash.  Music played and folks cheered, waving flags and partaking of the refreshments.

Once afloat, the vessel would be moored to a fitting dock where she would receive her finishing touches and the complex rigging required to support and control her sails.  Additional artisans and tradesmen were hired for this work—windlass-makers, anchor smiths, carvers, sailmakers, blacksmiths, pumpmakers, sparmakers and ropemakers.  With the combined the talents of so many laborers contributing to the extensive enterprise of building a wooden ship in colonial times, it is no wonder that launchings were celebrated by the entire town!

Lisa Norato is the author of Prize of My Heart, an inspirational seafaring historical from Bethany House. A life-long New Englander, Lisa lives in a historic village with homes and churches dating as far back as the eighteenth century.