The Cleanest Bookmark of All

by

Lauren Roberts

When I moved into my new home in May of this year, I had, for the first time in more than two decades, a washer and dryer of my own. And not just the machines; I  now have an entire room with an abundance of cabinet space, closets, counter space, a built-in desk, a rod above the machines for hangers, and two shelves for laundry detergent and whatever else I might wish up there.

Because of that doing laundry has become a joy. I love filling the washer with sheets, towels, and clothes, measuring out the soap, listening to the washer fill with water and begin its spinning. Moving clean items to the dryer, checking for lint, later removing the warm towels and clothes and folding or hanging, then putting them away is so easy I cannot comprehend how others find it tiresome. “Try using a public laundromat for even six months, let alone a couple of decades,” I tell the complainers. But I also acknowledge even a public laundromat was so much better than any washing device my grandmother, let alone earlier ancestors, used.

I was reminded of this fact when I bought the “Modern Home Washer” bookmark, circa 1915-1920. This machine was actually nothing more than a “washer” that fit down into one of the old concrete wash tubs. In other words, it is just the drum into which the clothes were placed. The tumble action that has been a part of washers ever since was, in this particular model, hand cranked, though an electric motor could be purchased and mounted in the same place as the crank seen in the image.

Despite what looks like a horrendous amount of work to us, this machine must have seemed a miracle to its users. It certainly was a tremendous improvement over the washboard which was itself a technological improvement. For centuries, the original way of washing had been to haul clothes to the river where the women would break apart solid dirt or mud with rocks (or rub it out with abrasive sand), then allow the rushing water to rinse the dirt away. It was a tedious, difficult, all-day affair—and in parts of the world it is still the primary method of obtaining clean clothes. Sailors at sea used the same principle by putting their laundry in a strong cloth bag, tying it securely to the ship, and tossing it overboard where it would be dragged for hours in the ship’s wake, thus forcing water through the clothes to remove dirt.

Even when washing moved from river to home, the chore was a staggeringly difficult one. There was no running water, gas or electricity to ease the process of one wash, one boiling, and one rinse, which used about fifty gallons of water and which had to be moved from pump or well to faucet, then to stove, and finally to tub—all by hand. Not only were women and young girls forced to rub, wring and lift heavy, water-laden clothes and table and bed linens, they were routinely exposed to the caustic substances used for soap and other cleaning materials. 

In Europe, the birthplace of the forerunner of the washing machine, the first English patent was issued under the category of Washing and Wringing Machines in 1691. Then in January 1752, The Gentlemen’s Magazine published a drawing of another early washing machine. In 1782 Henry Sidgier was issued a British patent for a rotating drum washer that consisted of a cage with wooden rods and a handle for turning. From this design in the late 1800s companies started producing hand operated machines that used paddles. And in late 1790, a British patent was issued to William Kendall for a rocking type of machine “for use by families at home for washing, cleansing and scowering all sorts of linen, cotton or woolen apparel and household furniture.”

Over in the U.S., in 1797, Nathaniel Briggs of New Hampshire invented the first washing machine of sorts—the scrub board. The idea was to provide a surface against which clothes could be rubbed to induce the friction that loosened dirt. His U.S. patent was titled “Clothes Washing,” but due to a fire that destroyed the patent office no description of the device exists. He followed that with what was known as the Box Mangler, consisting of a heavy frame containing a large box filled with rocks, resting on a series of wooden rollers. It wasn’t really practical, however, as it required lots of room, a minimum of two people to operate it, and substantial funds to even buy it.

The next device that appeared in the patent offices was a combination washing machine and wringer, but that was not until 1843 when John E. Turnbull patented a “Clothes Washer With Wringer Rolls.” Then came the revolving drum from James King in 1851. His machine was the first to use a drum, but it was still hand powered as was the one from Hamilton Smith in 1858 though it had a revolving drum with reversing action.  

Efforts to invent machinery that would replace what Catherine Beecher called “the American housekeeper’s hardest problem” were the object of many an inventor’s work as she noted:

In the early days, without running water, gas, or electricity even the most simplified hand-laundry used staggering amounts of time and labor. One wash, one boiling and one rinse used about fifty gallons of water—or four hundred pounds—which had to be moved from pump or well or faucet to stove and tub, in buckets and wash boilers that might weigh as much as forty or fifty pounds. Rubbing, wringing, and lifting water-laden clothes and linens, including large articles like sheets, tablecloths, and men’s heavy work clothes, wearied women’s arms and wrists and exposed them to caustic substances.

They lugged weighty tubs and baskets full of wet laundry outside, picked up an article, hung it on the line, and returned to take it all down; they ironed by heating several irons on the stove and alternating them as they cooled, never straying far from the hot stove.

In 1874, William Blackstone built a washing machine as a birthday present for his wife. No doubt he viewed it as a labor of love, though history does not remember her reaction. Still, if it eased the task of Monday wash day, it was likely a welcomed gift. His design consisted of a wooden tub with a flat piece of wood and six small wooden pegs; it looked like a small milking stool. This  was moved back and forth by a handle and gears. Dirty clothes were snagged on the pegs and swished about in hot, soapy water.

One man to whom I owe a debt of gratitude for assistance with research on this bookmark is Lee Maxwell of the astonishing Washing Machine Museum. He takes a humorous approach not only to his collection but to the history of washing machines in his book, Save Women’s Lives: History of Washing Machines:

In grandma Minnie’s estimation, if there was a perfume called “scent of satisfaction,” its fragrance would be that of a huge pile of just-finished laundry. Indeed it was satisfying to have the chore of Mondays done, and to be able to sit down, have a cup of tea, and just relax for a bit. During her tenured term of doing laundry, from about 1890 to 1950, grandma, who lived to be nearly 95, had spanned the “Washing Machine Age,” during which much of the innovation and deployment of laundry devices took place. Although there is evidence of washing machines existing in the 1400s, before the mid 1800s there were relatively few factory made clothes washers. And since the late 1930s, few remarkable changes have occurred in the way washing is done.

Among the innovations Maxwell mentions and possibly the most important was the advent of small electrical motors allowing washing machines to enter the electric age. In 1906, Alva J. Fisher produced the first one called the Thor. (At least he is credited with it, though it is possible that the first electric machine was invented by Louis Goldenberg, an engineer at Ford Motor Company.) It was a drum type with a galvanized tub, and was introduced to the public in 1908, and patented in 1910, by the Hurley Machine Company of Chicago, Illinois. They worked reasonably well, but were not without problems since the motor was belted to the side of the machine. If water spilt over the side, as it sometimes did, it would end up end up electrocuting anyone who touched it. It wasn’t until the 1930s that the motor was encased in a drum to prevent this terrible problem.

Shortly after the turn of the twentieth century, washing machine manufacturers (some of which are the largest and best known of today) began to appear. Among them was the firm started by F.L. Maytag who in 1893 started a farm implement company. Winter being the slow season in such products, he soon added a wooden tub washer to his line in 1907. It was only the first of many. And in 1911, Whirlpool, then known as Upton Machine Corporation, also began producing electric motorized wringer washers.

Around 1916, a machine called the Happy Home Steam Washer, became popular. The tub would be placed on coal, wood or gas stoves, and then clothing inserted to be santized. After adding water, which created steam, the operator (woman) would crank the machine for about 20 minutes per load. But this was only a brief respite from the march forward to electrical rather than hand power because only a dozen years later the sales of electric washing machines in the U.S. had reached 913,000 units. During the second decade, more than 700 manufacturers in the U.S. alone produced washing machines; Maytag, the most popular, produced about 1,500 machines each day. During the years of the Great Depression sales numbers dropped drastically, but by 1932 the appliance was showing some signs of recovery: 600,00 units.

In 1937, the first automatic washing machine, able to wash, rinse and extract water from clothes in a single operation, appeared in America, introduced by Bendix at a state fair in Louisiana. In appearance and detail it was not much different than today’s machines, but what made it memorable was its lack of any drum suspension, making the machine susceptible to “walking” unless properly bolted down. As a friend of mine described in a essay she included in The Latest Wrinkle about her mother, “How mama came out in the wash,” that machine could be both scary and hilarious:

My mother was a dignified woman, a Sunday School teacher, an exemplary parent and as my father never tired of saying, “A most remarkable woman.” Fortunately, she didn’t take any of her splendid virtues very seriously. How well I remember the day when Mama rode the bucking Bendix. . . .

So when Bendix marketed the first front-loading, automatic washing machines, Papa declared that our old wringer model was history. Mother was perfectly happy with her agitator, wringer and tubs. But she didn’t hold out against him for long.

My father wrestled the machine down the basement stairs, uncrated it, hastily bolted it to the floor and proclaimed it ready for use. Keep in mind that those first automatic washers  spun the clothes with roughly the same amount of force it requires to lift off a helicopter. The machine really did make Mondays a lot easier, . . .

One day, while I was struggling over my hated algebra, I heard a terrible scream come up the stairs from the basement. I also heard a clattering and banging as I hurled myself down the stairs, two at a time, to see a very strange sight. My normally staid mother was spread-eagled across the top of the washing machine, which was hopping across the basement floor. It was bucking, trying to toss her off.

“The plug,” she screamed, “Pull the plug.”

I did and the mighty machine halted in its tracks.

A mere three years after that introduction, sixty percent of the twenty-five million wired homes had an electric washing machine. After the war, Bendix, likely having learned its lesson, introduced a front-loading automatic model, the Bendix Deluxe. It retailed for $249.50. No reports have surfaced about any Deluxe walks. Other manufacturers also introduced competing machines. Despite the high cost of them, manufacturers were hard put to keep up with demand and even with material shortages during the Korean War the sales of these machines had, by 1953, exceeded those of wringer-type electric machines in the U.S. Europe, by contrast, was slower to see these inventions; electric washing machines did not really become popular until the 1950s due primarily to the war-devastated consumer market. And it wasn’t until the 1970s that automatic washing machines became the dominant type in the UK.

In 1957, General Electric was the first to manufacture a machine with push buttons. The buttons controlled the water temperature, spin speed, and agitation speed. Then in 1978 the first micro-chip machine was produced. Further developments, some still ongoing, include ways to use less water and detergent. One of the more interesting is the Xerox machine in Britain that uses  thousands of special plastic chips in each wash. When a single cup of water is heated, these chips absorb the dirt from the clothing. The chips are removed when the wash ends and can be reused up to 100 times.

As for the Home Devices Corporation, there is almost nothing to be found. The only information I could find about them was their address at Bush Terminal in Brooklyn, New York, and a newsletter, The Edison Monthly, for November 1915 in which it is noted that HDC is one of the exhibitors at the Electrical Exposition of 1915. That’s just about the date of the “washing machine” shown on this bookmark so I wonder if the description—“suitable for use in fixed tubs; it does not require a portable tub of its own. The motor takes current from the lamp socket; the cylinder reverses automatically and the wringer, which operates from the same motor, may be driven in either direction with or independent of the cylinder”—is that of the one on the bookmark. It sure sounds like it.

Finally, I want to reference the article earlier this year that made headlines around the world. It involved washing machines. L’Osservatore Romano, the Vatican’s official newspaper, in an editorial marking International Women’s Day 2009 pronounced that the machine had done more for the liberation of women than had the contractive pill or the right to work. “The Washing Machine and the Liberation of Women: Put in the Detergent, Close the Lid and Relax” included a black and white picture of two women in the 1950s admiring a front-loading machine. Needless to say, their assertion provoked protests. I understand that outrage. The editorial is condescending, naive, limited in its perspective, and disrespectful. But one small part of me has to agree. Using a washing machine is far, far preferable to pounding clothes, sheets and towels with river rocks. The washing machine did not liberate my generation of women, but boy howdy, it sure made life easier.

Note: Beginning this week, On Marking Books becomes a bi-weekly column.

Bookmark specifications: Modern Home Washer
Dimensions: 4 3/4” x  1 3/4”
Material: Celluloid
Manufacturer: Home Devices Corporation
Date: Circa 1900-1910
Acquired: eBay


Almost since her childhood days of Mother Goose, Lauren has been giving her opinion on books to anyone who will listen. That “talent” eventually took her out of magazine writing and into book reviewing in 2000 for an online review site where she cut her teeth (as well as a few authors). Stints as book editor for her local newspaper and contributing editor to Booklist and Bookmarks magazines has reinforced her belief that she has interesting things to say about books. Lauren shares her home with several significant others including three cats, nearly 1,300 bookmarks and approximately the same number of books that, whether previously read or not, constitute her to-be-read stack. She is a member of the National Books Critics Circle (NBCC) as well as a longtime book design judge for Publishers Marketing Association’s Benjamin Franklin Awards. Contact Lauren.