Jeanne Eagels – Star of stage and film.

*Jeanne Eagels, as a war orphan in the 1918 play “Daddies,” produced by David Belasco*

Jeanne Eagels
1890 – 1929

Broadway and early film star
***Local Connection: Homes on Kitchawan Road (Rt. 134) and Cedar Lane***

Okay, first, if you are under the age of 95, you might ask, who is Jeanne Eagels?

Well, she was a big Broadway and film star in the 1910s and ‘20s — in fact, one of the biggest.

And her Ossining connection is that she owned not one, but two estates here: a 30-acre estate called “Kringejan” at 1395 Kitchawan Road, and 22-acres of land and a house on Cedar Lane Road.

In fact, I’m convinced that these two photos below were taken in the gardens of Kringejan:

Photographs by Maurice Goldberg for Vanity Fair, c. 1925
Public Domain

And here’s a description of her 2nd home in Ossining, on Cedar Lane Road:

*Courtesy of the Ossining Historical Society*

In those days, Ossining was quite the place for the gentry to land – businessmen, bankers, writers and actors were snapping up farms and transforming them into elegant country estates. According to Eric Woodard and Tara Hanks in their biography Jeanne Eagels: A Life Revealed, Eagels fell in love with the Ossining area when she was making silent films at Thanhouser Studios in New Rochelle.

Hers was the classic “lift yourself up by your bootstraps” story that America loves: the small-town girl who comes to the big city and makes good. She started by nabbing bit parts in around 1908, and by dint of hard work, talent and luck, reached the top of her profession before her untimely death at the age of 39.

1924 found her on a list with Rockefellers, Roosevelts, Guggenheims and Harrimans when the income tax payments of Manhattan’s wealthiest were made public.

But somehow, that’s not at all how she’s remembered.

She lived most of her life on that tricky front line where she was applauded for her success while at the same time condemned for it. She was raised up and then torn down time and time again. The insatiable curiosity of the press and the public transformed almost every detail of her life into something salacious.

So, let’s try to separate the fact from fiction and give this accomplished woman her due.

Jeanne Eagels was born Amelia Eugenia Eagles in Kansas City, Missouri in 1890.

The story goes that Jean Eagles [sic] ran off with the Dubinsky Brothers Stock Company at the age of 15 (though she was really 18.) Starting off with a few small parts (and possibly by marrying one of the Dubinsky brothers) she clawed her way to the top there. At the time, stock companies were how most people living outside cities got their entertainment in the years before film and radio. And also how many actors got their starts.

These companies were constantly touring, often doing one night stands, after which the company would sleep sitting upright on chilly trains as they overnighted to the next stop. They played all sorts of venues, from legitimate theaters to church basements to tents in the nicer weather. On the rare occasion they played more than one night in a particular town, there were limitations about where they could stay because many hotels wouldn’t rent rooms to actors due to their supposedly loose morals. (And maybe because more than one had skipped out without paying.)

*Sometimes they played in theaters, sometimes in tents . . .*

She left the Dubinsky Brothers in 1910 (and changed her name to Jeanne Eagels) to join a tour of Jumpin’ Jupiter, landing on Broadway for three weeks in March of 1911. While the show was savaged by critics, Eagels managed to land on her feet and score a job in the chorus of The Pink Lady, a Klaw & Erlanger production.

*Jeanne Eagels is third from the left in this c. 1910 photograph.*
*Courtesy of the New York Public Library – Billy Rose Theater Division*

From here on, she’d continue to work steadily and for the most influential producers on Broadway, such as Charles Frohman, David Belasco, and the Shubert brothers.

Arguably, her most famous role was as Sadie Thompson in the play Rain. Whether you know it or not, I can guarantee you’ve heard of it somehow, or at least of the character of Sadie. Based on what was at the time considered a wicked and immoral story by Somerset Maugham (written in 1921), it’s about a prostitute named Sadie Thompson and the married missionary who falls in love with her as he tries to save her soul. It was provocative, controversial and just downright shocking.

Audiences couldn’t get enough of it.

Rain first premiered on Broadway in 1923. Lee Strasberg, the father of Method Acting, called her Sadie “One of the great performances of my theater-going experience . . . An inner, almost mystic flame engulfed Eagels and it seemed as if she had been brought up to some new dimension of being.”

(Fun fact: Gloria Swanson sold her Croton-on-Hudson estate to finance the 1928 silent picture version of Rain called Sadie Thompson, which she produced and starred in. Other actors connected to Rain in later films include Joan Crawford and Rita Hayworth. And, in 2016, the Old Globe Theater in San Diego premiered a musical version also called Rain. It’s a story that continues to fascinate.)

Jeanne Eagels quickly became as big a star as you could be back then. She appeared on Broadway and took her shows on the road, often selling out when she was the star. The Cleveland News ran a story about her which noted her “Lightning energy . . . Eyes snap. Voice trills. She seizes the attention.” It goes on to praise her realism and emotionalism – attributes it seems that most actresses of the time lacked.

In 1925, Eagels secretly married Ted Coy, a famed Yale football player and supposedly the inspiration for F. Scott Fitzgerald’s character of Tom Buchanan in The Great Gatsby.

Ted Coy, legendary Yale football star.

But Eagels didn’t allow marriage to slow down her career. She stayed on tour with Rain until 1926, when she left to take on the role of Roxie Hart in the Maurine Dallas Watkins-penned play Chicago (in 1975, John Kander, Fred Ebb and Bob Fosse would turn it into a hit musical.) But as her star continued to ascend, her marriage with Coy became more and more volatile.

It’s at this point of her career that the legend of her temperamental nature becomes the story. Soon, the papers were running article after article about her failing marriage, health problems, mental instability and whispers of drug addictions. Ultimately, they got the better of her, and she quit Chicago.

After spending a few months in Ossining recuperating and trying to repair her marriage, she signed on to star in the play Her Cardboard Lover opposite a young Leslie Howard. Directed by an early-in-his-career George Cukor, and with a script doctored by P.G. Wodehouse, it seemed destined for success. Alas, Eagels’ reviews paled next to Leslie Howard’s.

Thus began a series of missed performances and general incidences of unprofessional behavior.

Here’s an excerpt from an article in the Milwaukee Sentinel from May 6, 1928, during the tour of Her Cardboard Lover:

Miss Eagel’s eccentricities are of long standing. Before each performance, the company and management wait anxiously to see if she will appear at all. When she does, nobody knows what she will do on the stage, and the stage manager stands ready to ring down the curtain in case of trouble.

The article goes on to describe how she simply disappeared when the show moved from Chicago to Milwaukee:

Days passed, the theatre remained dark, the company idle, the management began to tear its hair, already made gray by the erratic star. Towards the end of the week, the lady of mystery turned up with the simple explanation that “She hadn’t been feeling well.” It was too late to do anything in Milwaukee, but there was a fine advance in St. Louis. So the manager bought flowers for the star and the company took turns petting and pitying her and asking no questions.

But the newly formed Actors’ Equity Association (of which Eagels, along with her New Castle neighbor Holbrook Blinn, had been unsupportive and initially refused to join) brought her up on charges for her behavior, levied a $3,600 fine equal to two weeks’ salary (or $48,000 in 2025 dollars) and banned her from appearing on the Broadway stage for a year.

In response, Eagels just went off and made films because she could. She had made some silent movies before her stage career took off, and film producers had never stopped clamoring for her.

However, her personal demons were taking over, and after missing two weeks of shooting, she was fired from MGM’s Man, Woman and Sin, a silent film in which she was co-starring with John Gilbert. (Since she’s in the final cut, it seems like most of her scenes had been shot.) It’s also around this time the gossip columns start calling her “Gin Eagels” because she was known to drink hot gin “prescribed by her doctor to relieve persistent neuralgia.” (Let’s not forget, this is all during Prohibition.)

For the last year of her life, most of her press mentions concern her health (many hospitalizations), her divorce (in lurid detail), and her films. And, of course her tragic death.

Her last project was a 1928 film called The Letter. It’s her only talkie, and she was posthumously nominated for a Best Actress Oscar Award for her performance (it went to Mary Pickford instead.)

Here’s a link to a scene. She does not look like she is at her best here.

Sadly, the story that’s mostly remembered is the tragedy of her early death, and her erratic behavior. This was helped along by a titillating biography written in 1930 by a muckraking Chicago reporter, Edward Doherty. Called The Rain Girl: The Tragic Story of Jeanne Eagels, her death was attributed to heroin addiction and alcoholism.

Eagels’ story was still bankable in 1957 when Columbia Pictures produced a highly fabricated biopic based on the Doherty book, starring Kim Novak:

Even the New York Times was not immune to capitalizing on her death. Her 1929 obituary made sure to remind everyone of her volatility and instability. It even took the time to follow up on her cause of death, publishing an article several days later that quoted the City Toxicologist’s finding that she “died from an overdose of chloral hydrate, a nerve sedative and soporific.”

The Times would go on to cover her funeral, burial and the settlement of her estate, noting that it totaled over $88,000 (that’s $1.1 million today) and consisted of her Ossining home, nearly $12,000 in jewelry and furs, and a rare Hispano-Suiza autocar.

A 1927 Hispano-Suiza motorcar. Imagine living in Ossining when cars like that were on the road! Today such cars can sell for up to $450,000

Clearly she was troubled and likely an addict of some kind, and I’m not trying to be an apologist here for the unprofessional behavior reported by the press at the time. The fact of the matter is that she was a remarkably successful actress, and producers kept hiring her because she sold tickets and made money for them. Looking at her films today, it might be hard to see the appeal, but back then, she was the cat’s meow.

A still from her last picture, *The Letter*

Vera Neumann — Textile Designer

Vera Neumann
1907 – 1993

Textile designer
***Local Connection: Smith-Robinson House/Printex Factory, 34 State Street***

Do you know who Vera Neumann was? Perhaps your mother or grandmother owned a Vera scarf? Or maybe you bought some Vera dish towels from Crate & Barrel, or a Vera dress from Target not too long ago? She’s an absolute legend in the world of textile design and her Printex printing plant was located right here in Ossining, at 34 State Street.

So settle in, tie a brightly hued scarf around your neck, and read on . . .

Born in 1907 in Stamford, CT, Vera was creative from the time she could hold a pencil. The story goes that her father nurtured her talent by taking her to the Metropolitan Museum of Art every Sunday, as well as hiring a sign painter to give her private drawing lessons. Vera went on to study at the Cooper Union and started out as a fashion illustrator and freelance painter of murals for children’s rooms. (Wouldn’t THAT have been a thing to grow up with on your wall!)

She married her husband George Neumann in the 1940s and they became the power couple of textile design. With her limitless imagination and his business acumen, they built a wildly successful and long-lived company. Their first commission was placements for the B. Altman department store, with Vera screenprinting the entire run on her dining room table. After that, it was a race to keep up with demand.

The post-World War II world complicated matters, as it was difficult to source fabrics. An oft-repeated story is that Vera came across a stash of silk parachutes in an army surplus store and began screen printing her whimsical, colorful, ever-changing designs on silk and so created her iconic line of scarves.

Outgrowing one studio after another, Vera and George settled in Ossining, buying the former Smith-Robinson House at 34 State Street and fitting it out for their Printex plant. (An 1810 Georgian mansion, it’s still standing today, barely, and is one of the few remaining buildings in Ossining built with prisoner-quarried Sing Sing marble.)

Department Store buyers visiting the Printex Plant, c. 1960s
Courtesy of the Ossining Historical Society and Museum

With their living space and office right next to the plant, Vera’s reputation and creativity thrived.

Vera and George Neumann in the design studio of Printex.
Photo by Gottscho-Schleisner, Inc. (1951),
Courtesy of the Library of Congress

The Living Room
Look at that shiny wood floor! And that fireplace!
Photo by Gottscho-Schleisner, Inc. (1951)
Courtesy of the Library of Congress

The printing plant
Photo by Gottscho-Schleisner, Inc. (1951)
Courtesy of the Library of Congress

The office suite of Printex
Photo by Gottscho-Schleisner, Inc. (1951)
Courtesy of the Library of Congress

How fabulous was this? River views and no commute? Wood floors and fireplaces? And just look at the Georgian decoration around those doorways! I wonder if any of it survives today?

The Printex company employed many Ossiningtonians. Dr. George Hill, their neighbor at 30 State Street, provided medical services to Printex employees. He also helped connect young people with jobs there. Local artist Donna Chambers was one of them, and the training and inspiration she received no doubt helped inspire her to become a professional artist who creates remarkable quilts and jewelry today.

And here’s just a tiny selection of Vera designs, from a 2015 exhibit at the Alexander Gray Gallery in New York:

If we were going to play six degrees of Vera Neumann, we can connect in one turn to President Harry S Truman and First Lady Bess Truman, who chose Vera’s Jack-in-the-Pulpit design (below) for the upholstery in the White House solarium.

Jack-in-the-Pulpit design – note, the shadows are part of the design. It is one of Vera’s most popular, in active use from 1952 to the mid-1980s

We can also connect to Marilyn Monroe. who famously wore nothing but a Vera scarf in her last photo shoot (with photographer Bert Stern.) Some might find the photos a bit raunchy, so be warned before you click here.

But one of the most admirable things about Vera Neumann is that she kept her price point low enough so anyone could own a Vera. While other designers charged upwards of $25 a scarf, Vera’s averaged from $2 – 10. (Remember inflation! $25 in the 1960s is about $250 today.) “I don’t believe only the wealthy deserve good design,” she said and meant it. And her inexhaustible creativity meant that the market was never saturated with the same thing, so even these “cheaper” scarves were always unique and special.

In the 1950s, as their family grew, George and Vera decided to build their dream house, reaching out to the leading architect of the day, Marcel Breuer. On their plot of land at the top of Finney Farm Road in Croton, with magnificent views of the Hudson and beyond, Breuer’s modernist design is a triumph. Still standing, and recently restored, it was on the market in 2020 for $4.2 million. Take a look here and here.

Vera and George travelled widely and collected art – Alexander Calder (who briefly lived in Croton as a child) was a close friend, and the Neumann lawn was decorated with a large Calder sculpture, a gift from the artist.

In the 1960s, the company branched out into clothing and home textiles, and sales skyrocketed. Here are a few outfits I plucked off Ebay/Pinterest:

And here are some homegoods items:

George died in 1960 and Vera sold Printex in 1967, though she remained active as a designer and board member for decades.

Vera Neumann in her Ossining studio, c. 1974

She lived in her beautiful home with her dachsunds and cats, swimming daily in her indoor pool until 1981, when she moved in with her daughter in Ossining.

Vera Neumann died in 1993, designing to the end. An artist, a trendsetter, a savvy businesswoman, hers was certainly a life well-lived who brought joy to everyone who saw her designs. Check out more of her work here.

Split Rock and Anne Hutchinson

This site has been on my bucket list ever since I first learned about it. It is neither in Ossining, nor something I’ve run by, but it is certainly history I’ve passed by . . .

In Pelham Bay Park there sits an enormous boulder split in two. It’s located on a tiny spit of land between the Hutchinson River Parkway and the exit to I-95N – you can see it from the Hutch briefly as you drive by if it’s winter, you’re in the passenger seat, and know exactly where to look.

The text below is apparently on an historical marker posted within Pelham Bay Park. I did not see it, but I would have read it if I had. Luckily, the NYC Parks Department has helpfully posted it on their website. So let’s start there:

Split Rock is a glacial boulder, divided in half with a large crevice between the two pieces, and is an important part of the history of Pelham Bay Park and the Bronx. It was in this gap that Anne Hutchinson and her daughter, Susannah, supposedly hid during the attack of the Siwanoy Native American tribe in 1643. Although the Siwanoy killed Hutchinson, it is believed that the Siwanoy protected and raised Susannah.

Split Rock Road was also the site of the Battle of Pell’s Point where, on October 18, 1776, Colonel John Glover (1732-1787) successfully safeguarded General George Washington’s (1732-1799) retreat to White Plains with a small band of Patriots against a large British and Hessian force. Glover placed his four regiments behind the stone walls along the side of the road to surprise the British and Hessian troops. Pieces of the walls can still be seen near the Split Rock.

Split Rock is located near the 375-acre Thomas Pell Wildlife Sanctuary, which was designated on October 11, 1967, to preserve the natural wetlands of Pelham Bay Park. The Sanctuary and marsh are situated along the western boundary of Pelham Bay Park at the Hutchinson River, and holds both salt marsh and forested lands. Salt marshes, characterized by saltmarsh cordgrass (Spartina alterniflora), are among New York’s least known and most valuable natural resources. Salt marshes flourish behind barriers of beach and sand, in the shelter of coves, lagoons, and bays, and along the banks of estuaries. They reduce erosion, and they provide for rich wildlife habitats.

The area is home to a variety of wildlife including raccoon, egrets, hawks, ibis, and, coyote. The border between salt marsh and forest is a good place to see yellow thistle (Cirsium horridulum) and holy grass (Hierchloë odorata), both rare in the City. The Sanctuary is named for Thomas Pell, the first European to control the land.

There is a Split Rock Trail that meanders 1.5 miles from the Bartow traffic circle through the Goose Creek Marsh, and the Thomas Pell Wildlife Sanctuary, to Split Rock. The trail runs near the former Split Rock Road, which now winds through the Split Rock Golf Course. The road was a former Siwanoy Trail between City Island and Pelham. In the summer of 1987 Parks and the Mayor’s City Volunteer Corps worked together to restore the Split Rock Trail for the public. The rock sits in the northwest corner of Pelham Bay Park at the junction of the Hutchinson River Parkway and the New England Thruway.[1]

A glacial boulder, massacre, a Native American trail, a Revolutionary War battle, rare thistle and salt grass? This site has thousands of years of history on it.

But let’s back up first, though, shall we? You must know of the Hutch, that narrow, windy Parkway that starts at the Bruckner and goes up about 20 miles to the Connecticut state line. If anyone still listens to traffic reports on the radio, the Hutch is almost always backed up with a disabled vehicle, a tractor trailer that has fallen from I-95 stopping traffic, etc. I hate driving it, although I love the name of it because it is one of the only (possibly THE only) New York State highways named after a woman.

The Parkway is named after the Hutchinson River it parallels, which in turn is named after Anne Hutchinson, the Puritan intellectual, activist and rebel. She was probably one of the most infamous women in her time, due not only to her unorthodox interpretation of the bible, but also her audacity of speaking and teaching these ideas in public. Throw in a hefty dose of patriarchal disapproval, fear and disdain for women, and you have the recipe for banishment.

Born Anne Marbury in 1591 in Lincolnshire, England, she was fairly well-educated for a young lady of her time. (Also, just parenthetically, she was born the year that Shakespeare wrote “The Taming of the Shrew”, “Henry VI” pts. 1,2 &3, and “Titus Andronicus.” This is in no way relevant, it is just some context that I find interesting.) Anne married William Hutchinson, a merchant, and they went on to have 14 or 15 children together. They also were extremely serious about their beliefs, and in 1634 followed the preacher John Cotton to Boston, Massachusetts on the HMS Griffin.

It was in Boston that Anne got into trouble for questioning the teachings of many Puritan ministers, accusing them, in effect, of not being pure enough, as they stressed the Covenant of Works over the Covenant of Grace. Without getting too deep into the weeds of Puritan theology, let’s just say this is called the Antinomian Controversy, and ended up with Anne being put on trial in 1637 for 80 or so counts of heresy of which, surprise, she was convicted and banished from the Massachusetts Bay Colony. Banishment was probably the kindest punishment for the time, considering that in England, heretics were often burned at the stake or hanged. Also, Anne might have been pregnant at the time, so perhaps the overlords were being merciful . . .

(It’s funny, isn’t it, how a group of people who emigrated from England on the grounds that they weren’t able to practice their religion freely, refused to allow others to practice THEIR religions freely in the New World. Ah, the base hypocrisy upon which our nation was founded!)

Anne, her husband and children left Massachusetts, along with Roger Williams and some other purists, to settle in Portsmouth, later Rhode Island. But just a couple of years later, again under threat from the long arm of Massachusetts, she and her husband took their six youngest children down to the wilds of New Netherlands, purchasing a tract of land in what is now the Bronx. In a tragic example of the cliché “out of the frying pan and into the fire,” the land they purchased from the Dutch belonged to the Siwanoy tribe, who did not recognize (or possibly even know about) the European transaction.

Tensions were high before the Hutchinson clan even arrived, due to the ongoing Kieft’s War, which was waged by the New Netherlanders against the Lenape, resulting in the massacre of many Native Americans. The other local tribes were united by these atrocities, and sent many warnings to Anne. Her husband William had died soon after they arrived, and Anne was left to build a house and set up a farm.

She had had convivial relationships with the Native Americans in Massachusetts and Rhode Island, so she apparently was not afraid or concerned when they visited her Pelham property on several occasions. For example, they would gather up the tools of her carpenter, James Sands, as he worked to build her house, and gesture to him to leave. (After a few days of this, he finally did, and she just engaged a different carpenter to finish the job.)

But the Siwanoy were not to be ignored.

Eve LaPlante, who wrote American Jezebel, the Uncommon Life of Anne Hutchinson, the Woman who Defied the Puritans, described the fateful day as follows:

The Siwanoy warriors stampeded into the tiny settlement above Pelham Bay, prepared to burn down every house. The Siwanoy chief, Wampage, who had sent a warning, expected to find no settlers present. But at one house the men in animal skins encountered several children, young men and women, and a woman past middle age. One Siwanoy indicated that the Hutchinsons should restrain the family’s dogs. Without apparent fear, one of the family tied up the dogs. As quickly as possible, the Siwanoy seized and scalped Francis Hutchinson, William Collins, several servants, the two Annes (mother and daughter), and the younger children—William, Katherine, Mary, and Zuriel. As the story was later recounted in Boston, one of the Hutchinsons’ daughters, “seeking to escape,” was caught “as she was getting over a hedge, and they drew her back again by the hair of the head to the stump of a tree, and there cut off her head with a hatchet.

Depiction of the massacre of Anne Hutchinson and her family, found in William Cullen Bryant’s “A popular history of the United States,” 1878 (PUBLIC DOMAIN)

Afterwards, all was burned to the ground and this is partially why no one has ever been able to find the exact place where the Hutchinson farm stood.

It is here that the Split Rock takes centerstage. As the massacre was happening, nine-year-old Susanna was, so legend has it, picking blueberries some distance away. When she heard the screams, she hid in the split of the rock. But the Siwanoy found her and took her captive (some theorize they did this rather than kill her because she had red hair, which they had never seen before.) She apparently lived with them for several years before she was ransomed back to family in Massachusetts, where she went on to marry and have 11 children. Author Katherine Kirkpatrick wrote a necessarily fictionalized YA novel called Trouble’s Daughter: The Story of Susanna Hutchinson, Indian Captive, that imagines this part of Susanna’s life.

If you’ve made this this far, you definitely want to know how to get to the Split Rock. Now, I will tell you, but note that to get right up close to it, you have to run across the entrance ramp to I-95, something I absolutely and categorically do not recommend you ever do. But here are directions on how to get close enough to see it clearly – FYI this hike takes about 20 minutes each way:

Go to the very end of Beech Tree Lane, in Pelham. (GoogleMaps will get you right there.)
At the end of the street is a pathway that enters onto the Bridle Path in Pelham Bay Park – it’s fairly clearly marked. Pass through the low wooden gate and you will see the Pelham Bay Golf Course in front of you. Take a right, and start walking, keeping the golf course on your left.

You’ll note that the path seems more than just a path and is, in fact, part of an old roadway that, in the mid-19^th century, led from the estate of a man named John Hunter (located on Hunter’s Island) to today’s Boston Post Road (aka U.S. 1).

The path/road climbs briefly up to an old iron railway bridge built in 1908, that spans the New Haven Line. Then, after the bridge, you will soon start to parallel I-95. This is the least enjoyable part of the walk. This is also mildly historical, but it involves titles and farms and deeded right-of-ways of which I have no interest. (But if you’re a real estate lawyer, here’s a link that details all this https://historicpelham.blogspot.com/2005/03/split-rock-pelham-landmark-for.html)

Looking back along the trail

Keep walking until the trail starts to head down fairly steeply (you’ll see a “Steep Slope” warning sign.) Here’s where you can bushwack to the guard rail and see, across the entrance ramp to I-95, the Split Rock. I really wouldn’t get any closer.

But stop here and take a minute to think about Anne Hutchinson and her family, forced out of England, then Massachusetts, then Rhode Island for their beliefs. Think of the Native Americans who saw their land being bought and sold out from under them, and being settled by Europeans, often with bloodshed. And think about young Susanna cowering in the split of that rock, hearing not the rumble of traffic whizzing by, but the blood-curdling screams of her mother and siblings.

It’s just a big rock, but it holds many stories . . .

[1] https://www.nycgovparks.org/parks/pelham-bay-park/highlights/11662

Ossining History on the Run

Local History Seen from a Runner's Perspective

Category: Famous Women

Jeanne Eagels – Star of stage and film.

Vera Neumann — Textile Designer

Split Rock and Anne Hutchinson

Depiction of the massacre of Anne Hutchinson and her family, found in William Cullen Bryant’s “A popular history of the United States,” 1878 (PUBLIC DOMAIN)

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