1866 PHILADELPHIA
PHOTOGRAPHER
vol. III
TRANSCRIPTION CONVENTIONS:
--Italics have been retained from publications, which uses them for both titles as well as emphasis. To more easily locate image titles, I have continued this italicization when titles have been rendered in all capitols or put in quotes, however italics have NOT been used when the general subject of an image is mentioned.
--Photographer’s (or potential photographer’s) names have been bolded – see also below under “Names”
--Brackets [ ] are used to indicate supplied comments by the transcriber; parenthesis
( ) are used in the original sources. If the original source has used brackets, they have been transcribed as parenthesis to avoid confusion.
--Spelling and typos: Nineteenth-century spellings occasionally differs from currently accepted norms. In addition, British spellings also differ from American useage. Common examples are: “colour” vs. “color”; “centre” vs. “center” and the use of “s” for “z” as in “recognise” vs. “recognize. While great care has been exercised in transcribing the 19th-century journals exactly as printed, “spell check” automatically corrects many of these differences. An attempt has been made to recorrect these automatic changes, but no doubt some have slipped through. As for typographical errors, these have been checked although no doubt some have managed to slip through the editorial process. For matters of consequence, I will be happy to recheck the original sources if need be for specific references.
-- Technical articles: For the most part, articles discussing technical aspects of photography, products, etc. were not transcribed unless they are part of a larger article covering photographs. When technical descriptions are too lengthy to include, that has been noted. Exceptions have been made as the transcriber saw fit.
--Meetings of Societies: Names of officers, members attending or referenced, dates and locations of meetings have been given. The first and/or earliest meetings recorded have been transcribed in full. Beyond those early years, only if the reports are very short or discuss photographs, have the articles been copied in full; if administrative or technical in nature. Although not always possible due to time constraints on borrowed materials, when possible, I have included at least the dates of society meetings and any photographer’s names listed.
-- Related, contemporary journals: e.g., The Art-Journal, cover both photographer as well as painting, drawing, sculpture, etc.. As they frequently refer to the production of both the photographer and the painter as “pictures” it is not always possible to tell when photography is indicated. If there is doubt, these articles have been included and the names bolded, but the individuals may, in fact, not be photographers.
NAMES:
--All photographer’s names have been bolded for easy location. EXCEPTIONS: While it is likely that people working with photographic equipment and techniques are also photographers some discretion has been used and not all such names have been bolded. Names of honorary members of a photographic society are assumed to be photographers and thus bolded, when in fact, that may not be the case. Names mentioned in connection with meetings of non-photographic societies have not been bolded unless there is a known or suspected photographic association. A computer word search, however, will still enable the researcher to locate any references to specific names.
--Names: Given abbreviations for titles such as “M” for “Monsieur”, etc., it is not always possible to tell if an individual’s first name or title is being abbreviated. Thus, especially with non-English photographers, too much credence should not be put into an initial that could also serve as an abbreviated title.
--It is not always possible in lists of photographers to know when two separate photographers are partners or not, e.g., in a list, “Smith and Jones” sometimes alludes to two separate photographers and sometimes to one photographic company. Both names will be highlighted and indexed but a partnership may be wrongly assumed. Any information to the contrary would be appreciated.
NUMBERS:
--Numbers referenced in the various journals can refer to either the photographer’s image number, or an entry number in an exhibition catalog. When the number is obviously is obviously that of the photographer, it is included in the index under the photographer’s name, whereas exhibition numbers are not.
1866: PP, Aug., vol. III, #32: p.239-240:
Photography Among the Indians. Fort Laramie, June 30, 1866.
Dear Journal: I have been in this wild region nearly a month, taking scenes in connection with the Treaty that has just been made with the Sioux, Arapahoes, and Cheyennes, and have secured twenty-two good negatives to send our friends, Wenderoth, Taylor & Brown, that will illustrate the life and character of the wild men of the prairie. I did what I could for the Journal in Indiana, Omaha, and Nebraska, and hope I obtained some subscribers. Here I can do but little, as but few people know much about the art. There was a Mr. and Mrs. Laramie who used to take a mean style of ambrotypes here, but he died, and she was captured by the Indians, and, after suffering many hardships, escaped and returned to the States. Excepting the Indian life, the scenery here away is nothing to boast of, but it is more imposing as we go toward the Rocky Mountains. They are in sight, but so distant and blue that they defy my skill. I had much difficulty in making pictures of the Indians at first, but now I am able to talk to them, yet I get pretty much all I want. The water is muddy, and out of fifty negatives I have taken, I shall only publish prints from twenty-two. They will come in with the Commissioners. They return on the 2nd of July. I have succeeded very well with Indian ponies as you will see. I expect to leave here next week, and go on to Fort Reno with Colonel Carrington’s Expedition. He, with the Eighteenth Regiment, is establishing posts along the Powder River round to the Yellowstone River. My next move (one hundred and eighty miles) will take me to the Mountains where I shall revel in a superabundance of magnificence and grandeur. With Major Brigers, the pioneer of the Northwest, I expect to travel, and trap this fall, and spend the winter in Virginia City, Montana, and to secure some winter Rocky Mountains scenery. My prospects for visiting all the Territories are at present very favorable, and I hope to make my talents for making negatives available to science. When I get to Virginia City, I hope to forward some whole size negatives to you for publication; but as I am situated at present, mut confine myself to making only stereoscopes. I have found that a little oxalic acid will enable one to use hard water for the silver bath, if added carefully until all the lime is precipitated as oxalate, and then the water is filtered, and does not interefere, if in a little excess, with the working of the bath. This country is sandy, and we have a spring of excellent water near the Fort. Both the Platte and Laramie River water are pure enough, but full of sand as the currents are very rapid. As I cannot carry spring-water far to wash the negatives with, I have difficulty in making perfectly clean work, but have made some that are all I could desire.
Some of the Sioux think photography is “pazuta zupa’ (bad medicine). To-day I was over trying to take the Wahcopomony at the great Brulie Sioux village. The wind blew so hard I could not make but one passable negative, though I had some of the most interesting scenes imaginable. Here the division of the presents from the Government, was made and some 1200 Sioux were arranged, squatting around the Commissioners in a large circle, three rows deep. The village embraces more than 200 tribes (lodges) led by ‘Spotted Tail,’ ‘Standing Elk,’ and ‘Running Bear.’ ‘The Man that walks under the ground’ is a good friend of mine. He and the ‘Running Bear’ have had their pictures taken. I have been introduced to the other two, and they are friendly. So I took all I chose, or rather all I could after the wind subsided towards evening. The camp presented a lively scene. They have just moved it up to the junction of the Platte and Laramie on the north side of the Platte, and arranged it so as to inclose a half mile inside their tents to secure their horses, which they herd in the day-time, and drive in at night. Some 500 ponies were pasturing around, and the scene was novel and beautiful, with the river on the south. They are in the middle of a valley, two miles wide, closed in by swells of sand and gravel, 200 feet above the river. The valley is sandy, yellow with the bloom of a dwarf species of sun-flower interspersed with white moss flowers, yellow cactus, and a white variegated thistle, that bears a large white flower. The river is fringed with cotton woods, and the hills bare and bleak. I did at least get a tolerably good negative after working hard nearly all the afternoon. Towards night, about 100 Indians came out on horseback, and I witnessed three match races of about as fast horse travelling as I wish to see, and the riders far wilder than the horses. Some of the Indians think they will die in three days, if they get their pictures taken. At the ferry to-day I pointed the instrument at one of that opinion. The poor fellow fell on the sand, and rolled himself in his blanket. The most of them know better though, and some I have made understand that the light comes from the sun, strikes them, and then goes into the machine. I explained it to one yesterday, by means of his looking-glass, and showed him an image on the ground glass. When he caught the idea, he brightened up, and was willing to stand for me. I make them Ferrotypes, and put brass around them, and they think they are ‘wash-ta-le-poka’. (Their superlative for good.) I anticipate making a picture from the hills to-morrow, taking in the whole camp (a solar, if I can). They are to come in to-morrow to bid the Commissioners good bye. I expect, then, to take the Fort from across the Laramie.
Truly, your friend,
Ridgway Glover.
P.S. July 2d. I got a good picture of the Fort this morning, and this afternoon I happened to be present when Colonels McLean and Thomas Wistar were distributing the goods to the Chiefs, and although the interpreters were discouraged, and the Indians seemed unwilling, Thomas and McLean at least persuaded them to sit, and I got a stereoscopic group of six Ogholalla, and eight Brulie Sioux. The wind was blowing, and the sand flying. The negative is, therefore, not quite clean, but all the likenesses are good, and they can be readily recognized. They are,
BRULIES.
‘Spotted Tail,’ ‘Swift Bear,’
‘Dog Hawk,’ ‘Thunder Hawk,’
‘Standing Elk,’ ‘Tall Mandan,’
‘Brave Heart,’ ‘White Tail,’
Oghalollahs (they pronounce it).
‘The Man that walks under the ground,’
‘The Black War Bonnet,’
‘Standing Cloud,’ ‘Blue Horse,’
‘Big Mouth,’ ‘Big Head’
The Signers of the Treaty.
I will try to send you a letter every month now. Yours, truly, R.G. [Ridgway Glover]
As will be seen by his letter, and as we announced some months ago, our correspondent, Mr. Glover, is on a photographic expedition through the great West and Northwest. It is his intention to take pictures of the most interesting scenes and localities along the route. His negatives will be sent to Messrs. Wenderoth, Taylor & Brown, of our city, who will print from them, and have copies for sale.
We hope Mr. Glover will secure something excellent and interesting to illustrate our Journal. We commend him to the good will and fraternal courtesies of the craft wherever he may meet them, and hope we shall have a frequent letter from him as he journeys along. We are glad to know that his success is no longer a matter of solicitation. Ed.”
1866: PP, Nov., vol. III, #35: p.339:
Photography Among the Indians. No. 2.* Fort Philip Kearney, Montana Terr., July 29, 1866. (*Mr. Glover’s letter was too late for our last issue.–Ed.)
No doubt, dear Journal, you received my last, dated at Fort Laramie. As I told you, I there saw the lazy, sleepy red man treating for peace and friendship. He has since appeared to me as the active, wide-awake savage in the war-path, and made me think of two lines of an old song:
‘Then you have Indian allies–you styled them by that name–
Until they turned the tomahawk, and savages became.’
For it is when the Indian scents blood that he becomes really and truly a savage, or, rather, the savage gets on the outside of him, and becomes visible to the naked eye. I left Fort Laramie on the 18th of July, and joined one of Col. Carrington’s trains, under command of Lieut. Templeton, and composed of six other officers, the post-chaplain, Mr. White, ten privates, nine drivers, three women, five children, and ‘the photographer’, of course.
We had very little scenery worth photographing until we crossed the Platte at Buyer’s Ferry, fifty-three miles from Fort Laramie. Eighteen miles further up, I made a stereoscope view of the river, and bade it farewell. After three day’s travel over a barren and loamy section, we reached Fort Reno]. The next day we travelled twenty-five miles further to Crazy Woman’s Fork, where our commander and Lieut. Daniels were surprised by Indians while hunting a camping-ground. Lieut. Templeton came in without his hat, with a string of Indians on ponies after him, while poor Daniels was killed. Our men with their rifles held the Indians at bay until we reached a better position on a hill, where we kept them off until night, when Capt. Burroughs, formerly of Philadelphia, coming up with a train, caused the red-skins to retreat. They looked very wild and savage-like while galloping around us; and I desired to make some instantaneous views, but our commander ordered me not to, as he expected an attack at any time.
Capt. Burroughs took us back to Fort Reno, where we buried Lieut. Daniels, loaded stores, and, being joined by two other trains, started again. We reached Clear Creek, twenty miles beyond Crazy Woman’s Fork, unmolested. I made a picture of the battle-ground. At Clear Creek the Cheyennes came into camp; but my collodion was too hot, and my bath too full of alcohol, to get any pictures of them, though I tried hard. They attacked our train in the rear, killed two of the privates, and lost two of their number.
The next day we arrived here, at the base of a mountain whose summit is surrounded perpetually with a wreath of purest snow. I am surrounded by beautiful scenery, and hemmed in by yelling savages, who are surprising and killing some one every day. I expect to get some good pictures here, and hope that before Christmas you will see how these mountains look in July. I hope my next letter will be more interesting photographically. Until then,
Photographically yours,
Ridgway Glover.
1866: PP, Dec., vol. III, #36: p.358:
Editor’s Table: Death of Mr. Glover
TO DO
1866: PP, Dec., vol. III, #36: p.367-369
Photography Among the Indians. [Letter #] III [Aug. 29].
Dear Journal:
I am still in the vicinity of Fort Phil. Kearney, having been established in a log house with a detail of wood-choppers, just at the foot of the Big Horn Mountains. The block-house is built of pine logs in a circular valley strewn with gray boulders, and covered with a heavy growth of pine timber. The Piney Fork comes down through a rough romantic gorge in the mountains, and rushes by it with a ceaseless roar, scattering its foam and spray over the rocks that fill its channel. Here I have been waiting for the medical supply train to come up, to get some chemicals, being at present in a ‘stick;’ but, though unable to make negatives, I have been enjoying the climate and scenery, both being delightful. Last week I took two days rations, and climbed the mountain, just after sunrise. It had rained the day before, and clouds of mist were rising over the plain below me, an ocean of brilliantly illuminated clouds, with now and then a dark island where a hill-top stuck up above them, stretching away until it blended with the sky in the smoky distance. The cool breeze from the mountains rolled it back from their bases, and the valley of the Piney stuck out with its dark forest like a cape. Passing over the first range, on the opposite side of which, from the block-house, the stratified rocks have been upheaved, and stand at an angle of 85°, being broken off square, and present a precipitous surface of 500 feet, sloping each way toward the gorge. The precipices on each side of the Piney stand up purpendicularly over 1000 feet, and, through this opening, the Piney valley, the plains, the distant fort, and De Smale’s [De Smets] lake, give a long and picturesque distance, while below, the Piney foams through piles of immense blocks of stone, that have become detached from the cliffs above. These interspaces are filled with pine, fir, and aspen trees, which also clothe the sides of the mountains below the cliffs, and make them contract finely with the bare plain beyond. Beyond the first range the rocks are primary and igneous. My path lying on a ridge above the stream, I had to climb up and down hill, each eminence being crowned by an outcrop of trap, that sometimes stuck up perpendicularly thirty or forty feet. The sides of the ridge next the stream were covered with loose rocks, that seemed to have been upheaved, and then shaken down again. The ground is covered with burnt pines that had been prostrated by the wind; over these I had to scramble for five or six miles. As I came around a pile of rocks I surprised a flock of ten mountain sheep; they are, to all appearances, much like domestic sheep, only their horns are three times as large: they soon let me see their tails. As they rattled over the dead trees, they frightened three large elk does, who joined them in the race. About ten miles from the block-house I came to the live timber, and before entering it I had a fine view down the gorge, looking right over the tops fo the first mountains I had climbed. After entering the timber, I followed a game-trail, and soon passed down into a valley where there was an open glade, with a stream of clear water running through it. The grass was tender and young, the spring flowers in bloom, and I regaled myself with a mess of fine ripe strawberries. There were many deer and elk tracks about. After resting a while I started on again. Just as I entered the woods, I saw three large buck elks lying under a tree, and had time to take a good look at them before they saw me. They were as large as mules, a reddish Durham color, and their horns, with many antlers, were more than three feet long, and were at least six feet from tip to tip. They saw me, and all springing at once, cracking their horns together, tore away through the bushes. Going on, I followed a well-beaten path through a magnificent pine forest, seeing many deer and hearing them snort all around me. Some of the bucks (red deer) were twice the size of the specimen in your Academy of Natural Sciences. The woods were full of whortleberry bushes, and I enjoyed my fill of them; they were red and small, and tasted like whortleberries and ripe apples. Coming to the end of the timber, I found myself on a rolling prairie, two miles wide and three miles long; it was rather barren, but grew some buffalo grass. Crossing it, I passed down into a valley, and found a stream of water twenty feet wide, in a narrow valley. Looking down stream I saw something large behind a small pine, and stepping to one side I found myself face to face with a huge buffalo bull, who seemed to be regarding me with an much curiosity as I was him. We stared at each other with mutual surprise and wonder, when, as if he meant to satisfy my curiosity, he first turned broadside to me and then showed me his tail as he galloped off. I was now at the base of the snow-clad Mountain, Big Horn, himself. Here I ate my dinner, rested awhile, and then started for the snow through a small growth of pine for three or four miles, when I came to a jumble of large angular rocks, over which I climbed all the rest of the day up [a] moderately steep slope. At sunset I stood on the wintry summit, and saw the last rays of light illuminate another snowy range further on. I had been in snow in August, and could see down over all the mountains I had climbed, and away, away for hundreds of miles over the plain. I then turned to look for a place to sleep, but could find none level and large enough to lie down upon, so I turned and went back by moonlight til I found a rock sufficiently large and level for a bed, when I ate my supper, and wrapping myself in a buffalo robe, slept soundly until sunrise. Feeling comfortable, I laid still, and waited until it got warm, and then getting up I had a splendid view of the mountain-side, with its jumble of rocks; the prairie below, with two beautiful little lakes, by one of which a herd of thirty elks were feeding, while six buffaloes were pasturing to the left of them; then down over the mountains below, with their pine forests, and then the vast plain with the Piney foaming down from the snow through its long gorge, and then winding off with its fringe of green trees far away by the fort, and De Smales Lake to the right, glittering in the morning sun. Up and down to the right and left the ranges of mountains stretched away, peak upon peak, for a hundred miles or more. I found but one kind of animal in this high range, and they were a little larger than rats. They were gray, with short ears and tails, and bleated like young lambs; they live in the crevices of the rocks, and make nests of grass and flowers. They jumped over me while I was lying on the rocks, before going to sleep. I returned by nearly the same road I travelled out, excepting that I kept nearer the creek, and had a rougher road of it. Found plenty of raspberries among the rocks, some equal to the finest Antwerps I ever saw in a garden; and in a valley, in the afternoon, I saw a large black bear picking berries; he was an glossy and handsome as a Newfoundland dog, and quite as large. When he saw me he quietly walked away, and made no show of fighting, though I was within twenty feet of him. I got home after sunset, tired and hungry, having travelled fifty miles in two days over anything but a smooth road.
A few days afterwards, one of the choppers, Mr. Wilson, went with me back to the same country, hunting. We saw some elk, but they were too far off to shoot, and as Wilson made so much noise, I parted company with him; but he had not been gone long, before I came across a large grissly bear. I was about firing a ball into his rump, but, fortunately, thought what he was in time; had I fired, you would have received no more letters from me. He showed fight, but at least concluded to let me alone, and I had no disposition to attack him; he was as tall as an elk, and I guess, would weight fifteen hundred at least. One lick with his paw would have settled my coffee for me instantly.
I hope next month to tell you I have made some magnificent views. To-day I found out that charcoal, from soft wood, if well pulverized, will put a better found on glass than the finest emery. I broke my ground glass, and had to make another. After trying to get sand fine enough, by running water, I pulverized some coal, and with the bottom of a bottle I got a fine ground surface, and recommend prepared carbon, when it is necessary to draw a fine focus. I now have a good climate and good scenery, and expect to turn out something fine. Expecting to have to remain here all winter, I shall be able to do justice t this interesting locality.
Yours truly,
Ridgway Glover.
August 29th.
1866: PP, Dec., vol. III, #36: p. 371:
Obituary.
Our apprehensions concerning our Indian correspondent, Mr. Ridgway Glover, have proven too true. On the 14th of September, he left Fort Philip Kearney, with a private as a companion, for the purpose of making some views. It was known that the hostile Sioux were lurking around, but, knowing no fear, and being ardent in the pursuit of his beloved profession, he risked everything, and alas! The result was that he was scalped, killed, and horribly mutilated. In another column our readers will find the last letter they will ever read from him. It was received by us some time after his death, as letters from the direction come slowly. We regret exceedingly that his career should have ended so suddenly, and that his mission should remain unfulfilled.
Ridgway Glover was born in this city, and belonged to the Society of Friends. He was a man of some means, but, loving the photographic art, took it up and became a very successful animal and landscape photographer. He was rather eccentric in his ways. We have often been amused at his odd-looking wagon as it passed our office window, and as frequently wondered that he secured as good results as he did. But he had his own way of thinking, and cared very little whether any one else agreed with him or not. He would never use a tripod, prefering a couple of heavy step-ladders. The Roettger triplet was his special pet, and nothing could induce him to try anything else. We shall not soon forget our first acquaintance with him. A rough, shaggy-looking fellow entered our office with two foolscap sheets full of writing hanging in one hand, and with very little ceremony threw them down before us, remarking that there was an article for the Journal, and walked out. We promised to examine it; we did so, and next day it was our painful duty to inform him that his paper was of no use to us. This brought us another foolscap sheet full of abuse and condemnation of ourselves and the poor innocent Philadelphia Photographer. We used about six lines in replying to that, [reference not yet located] and were again favored with a fourth sheet crowded with apologies. That was his nature. Impulsive, generous, and goodhearted, to a fault. No one suffered if he could help them. The study of the red man was a favorite one with him. He was possessed of a good education and considerable poetical genius, displays of which we have been privileged to see. It was his desire and aim to make views of the entire route across and beyond the Rocky Mountains, but his untimely end has frustrated that purpose. ‘Poor Glover!’ say those who knew him. Would that he had met a better fate, but we hope and trust that he is in a better land.
[Note: An obituary also appeared in Frank Leslie’s Ilustrated Newspaper, vol, 23 # 578, Oct. 27, 1866, p. 94 “The Fate of a Frank Leslie ‘Special.’]