November 25, 2013 Leave a comment
“If Salisbury House does not feel one hundred years old on the day that we finish,” Carl Weeks once intoned, “then we have failed.” Happily, Weeks’ goal was beautifully realized upon the completion of his new home in the 1920s. Certain portions of the house, however, were decidedly modern. The bathrooms of Salisbury House – all sixteen of them – reflected the detailed attention to high-end furnishings that made the Weekses’ home, in Carl’s words, “a harmonious association of the centuries.”
The Weeks family were among the “one-percenters” of the 1920s. Indoor toilets remained limited for most folks until after World War II. The outhouse, not a flush toilet, represented the most common form of sanitation for much of the population, particularly in rural areas.Rural Iowa outhouse, c. 1930s. Special Collections, State Historical Society of Iowa, Des Moines
Indeed, sanitation for most people in the early twentieth century did not look dissimilar to the situation as it stood for much of recorded history. A hole in the ground sufficed for centuries. Public latrines, for example, were not uncommon in classical Rome.
Latrines at Dougga (http://www.flickr.com/photos/prof_richard/7759983358/)
Despite the occasional existence of surprisingly complex sewer systems in the classical and premodern eras, the preferred method of excrement disposal for the masses remained al fresco. Most people unceremoniously dumped waste out windows or doors into the open sewers of city streets. Passers-by were well-advised to remain alert.
The late sixteenth century saw a significant advancement in the field. Sir John Harrington, plumber to the stars, created a water closet prototype for the benefit of Queen Elizabeth I in 1596. Nearly two hundred years later, Scotsman Alexander Cummings secured the first patent for a flush toilet.
Rendering of Cummings’ design http://www.robinsonlibrary.com/technology/engineering/biography/graphics/bramah4.gif
By the nineteenth century, various historical processes spurred the development of the modern waste disposal system. Industrialization, urbanization, advancements in the fields of medicine and epidemiology, and the rise of social movements aimed at urban reform, among others, laid the groundwork for contemporary sanitation methods.
A new industry sprang up to meet the public’s needs. Around the turn of the twentieth century, a variety of companies vied to become the public’s preferred purveyor of all things plumbing. Here in the United States, the Meyer-Sniffen Company of New York emerged as a rising star. Their 1884 Catalog “D” contained a dazzling array of faucets, sinks, toilets, bathtubs, and other accouterments.
What set Meyer-Sniffen’s wares apart from the average products installed by Joe the Plummer c. 1920? John Christou of George Taylor Specialties, a vintage faucet and valves company in New York, explained the appeal of Meyer-Sniffen in a 2002 interview for Old House Journal.
“Without regard to cost or consumer, Meyer-Sniffen equipment appears to be purposely heavy—not so much as to be better mechanically than their competitors,” he remarked, “but to be different.” According to Old House, the company’s plumbing products were “unmistakable: massive but rich with voluptuous curves and thickness.” Further, Christou continued, “parts that other manufacturers would nickel plate, Meyer-Sniffen would make out of pure nickel.” Much of Meyer-Sniffen’s product line centered on providing high-end clients with high-end finishes. ”No matter how many years a mansion, club, or hotel staffer polished this faucet,” concluded Christou, “they could never wear off the shine.”
The company’s products appealed to Carl Weeks. Leaving aside his affection for “voluptuous curves” in a context entirely apart from plumbing, Weeks likely responded to the quality and durability of Meyer-Sniffen. Although many of the original fixtures of Salisbury House have been removed during the years since the Weeks family lived here, the remaining pieces are fine examples of the company’s workmanship.
On the second floor of Salisbury House, each of the seven bedrooms bedroom includes an en-suite bathroom. We first noticed the Meyer-Sniffen trademark on the toilet in the porch room bath, just off the balcony in the Great Hall:
An earlier version of this “Vortex Special” toilet was, in fact, pictured in their 1884 catalog. Among several options pictured, the offerings shown here include both a standard and ornate finish.
The tanks were not wall-mounted as shown at Salisbury House in the 1920s, but otherwise the style remained similar.
The Weekses also employed a bit of classy camouflage for the bare toilets. It’s possible that all the bathrooms in the house originally contained the wicker and wood toilet covers pictured below. The remaining examples now appear in the baths in the Queen Anne guest bedroom (left) and Edith’s suite (right).
The bath fixtures that have survived the years also attest to the durability of Meyer-Sniffen. The sink ensemble in Edith’s suite (top) and the fixtures in the Queen Anne bath (bottom) are still in remarkably good shape.
The installation of first-rate tubs, toilets, and hardware would have themselves alone assured the superiority of Salisbury House bathrooms. However, the Weekses were not done. Deftware, the finely-crafted tiles made in the Netherlands, were incorporated into the tile walls of several baths. The Delft tiles embedded into the walls of the baths in William’s room (top), the Queen Anne room (middle), and Edith’s suite (bottom), are pictured here.
So much about the Weeks’ home remains extraordinary. Its architecture, artwork, rare books, artifacts, and the plumbing – yes, the plumbing – testify to the breadth and depth of the Weekses’ vision. On your next visit to Salisbury House, take a closer look at these Cadillacs of water-closets.