John Brown Guided Walking Tour 

Background

John Brown is a 56 year old glassmaker. He comes from a family of glassmakers, with John carrying out the family's practice and skills from generations before. With all the younger men from the factory sent off to fight in the war, John is left carrying the business and continuing glass production. John is also an active member of the town, attending and participating in town meetings and events. Especially during a time of war, John focuses on helping his community and his neighbors around him. 

Home, 3 Liberty ST.

It is Friday, the sun peeks through the heavy clouds. The newspaper said that the sun will start to come out more and the rain will stop. It has been a rainy spring, and I am looking forward to warmer weather.  I walk home from work with the rest of my coworkers. We all live in the same area, all within walking distance from the glass factory. Most of my coworkers live in Jarvesville. A residential neighborhood built by our boss, Deming Jarves, to provide residential housing for all glassmakers. 

Glassmaking has deep roots in my family. With my great grandfather being one of the first  people to work in the glass factory downtown. He built a house right down the street, alongside other factory workers. The house was then passed down from my great grandfather to my grandfather, then to my father, then to me. 

I would have lived with the rest of my coworkers in Jarvesville but I did not want to sell the house that has been in my family. My house is the same distance from the factory as Jarvesville is, but mine is in the opposite direction. I part with my coworkers as I head home. I could take my horse to work, but I enjoy the peaceful walk home. Besides, my wife needed the horse to travel to her sisters today. 

Corner Store, 2 Pleasant ST.

The streets are congested with traffic; horses, carriages, and people line the streets on this busy afternoon. The sun is peeking through the clouds, with a light sea breeze brushing the branches and left over leaves. The kids dance around me in the streets, as their busy mothers try to get a hold of them. One of the kids bumped into me, the mother followed right after, scolding them for not listening. 

I walked into the store looking for a lamp, oil, and thread, But the shelves were bare of what I needed. In fact, the shelves are bearer by the week. Now, salt is near worth its weight in silver. I was able to find some vinegar and coarse flour, so I traded a few small glass bottles I made. He asked if I could make more, since people are preserving everything they can now. I informed him I would see what I could do. It is funny how war changes what is valuable. A year ago, no one paid attention to jars and bottles. 

Church, 159 Main ST.

Sunday morning brought a light shower, but I still made it to church. Filing through my closet, I had very few dress clothes left. I picked out the most presentable outfit, and left out the door. 

I walked with my neighbors to the church, mostly the wives left after their husbands were sent off. They are all worried and scared for their husbands, but I assure them that they are doing well and will come soon. 

The windows in the old chapel, the ones I made years ago, are still intact. The light through the different colored panes made the sanctuary glow, with a soft and golden light. The light seemed like a beacon of hope. Which fit well with the Reveren’s speech on endurance and hope. He spoke with an unsteady voice and a weary appearance. I imagine all the funerals have taken their toll. Still, he urged us to find purpose and meaning in our work, and to trust God’s plans. 

After the service, someone asked me to mend a window for one of the church members. I agreed to do so without charge, it is the least I can do on my part. The rest of the day, I spoke with the townspeople, ensuring that everyone is doing well.

Work (Glass Museum), 129 Main ST.

 I wake up abruptly to a tapping sound on my window.  I look over my shoulder, it is still dark as night outside. The streets were dimly lit, with the spring fog setting in. Looking down on the sidewalk, I see a knocker upper with their candle light. Tapping at the windows of my neighbors. I glance over my shoulder, it's only 4:30 AM, I have about 45 minutes before I have to leave for the factory. 

The factory was hot, hotter than usual. The furnace has been temperamental again, one moment too cold and another it is glowing like the sun itself. We have been short on soda ash since the shipments have slowed from the East. We try to make do with what we have, but impurities show in the panes, and it weighs me down. I always take pride in clear, honest glass. 

The factory is less crowded too, with fewer men around. Some could not feed their families on factory wages, so they left to go fight. I have been training the boys who are left. They are willing to learn but have little patience to do so.

Town Hall, 130 Main ST.

I attended a town hall meeting last night, one of the many weekly ones I attend every week. I make sure not to miss them. The room was mostly full, mostly older gentlemen like myself, the ones left that did not have to leave. Today's meeting was about the concern over the draft, and no clear word from Boston on supply lines. Tensions ran high in the room, with some having to take a step out. Some spoke of rebellion, even against our own side. But most men wanted peace to be restored and food for their tables. I offered what I could, like donating some window panes to the school house, since most got broken from the past storm. I knew it was not much, but I knew that it was something to help. 

The mayor’s hands are tied, I think. But everyone is. I think if we each give a little light, the whole town will not dim completely. We all have to do our part to the best of our abilities, and pray for the rest.

Map