Tuesday, December 24, 2013

The Story of Lula: A Singer Treadle Sewing Machine

In my last post, I mentioned an old singer treadle sewing machine, owned by my great-grandmother, Lula Rich Carter.  Thinking about the machine made me nostalgic, and I decided to restore it and put it back into service.  This has occupied a great deal of my time over the last few days.  My husband casually asked, "So what's the story with this old machine".

As is often the case, this story starts off with two people who fell in love....


 Addison Carter & Lula Rich Carter
As told by Kathryn Carter Brown
October 1993

These two wonderful people started their life together in a potato house.  Now a potato house was a little “A” shaped building constructed on top of the ground.  It was covered in straw with dirt packed on top.  There was a small door -- just large enough to crawl through.  It was called a potato house because each year when the sweet potatoes were dug, they were stored in there for the winter.

When Addison and Lula decided to get married on September 8, 1915, there were no potatoes in the house.  Because they had decided to slip away together in secret, they came up with a plan.  Lula was to pack her suitcase and hide it in the potato house the night before they eloped and Addison would pick it up before the morning.

On the night of September 7th, Addison crept secretly to the potato house to pick up Lula’s suitcase.   He got down on his knees to crawl in and the first thing he felt was a shoe!  He thought that Lula’s father had discovered their plan and was waiting for him in the potato house. Addison thought he was in big trouble.  He got out of that potato house faster than he went in and left the suitcase behind.

After he calmed down a bit, Addison finally got up the nerve to go back in again.  What he found was that his future wife had so many clothes that she could not fit them all in the suitcase.  She had tied her shoes onto the handle!

*   *   *

In 1918, Lula purchased a used Singer Treadle sewing machine.  It was a model 127 and was manufactured in Singer's facility in Elizabeth, NJ sometime after December 1915.


Singer Factory in Elizabeth, NJ

No one remembers how much she paid for the machine, but based on records of the time, it likely would have been around $25 to $30, which is equal to about $580 to $690 in today's market.  This was clearly an important purchase.  Lula used this machine to make clothes for the family for many, many years.  She passed away on January 14, 1967 at the age of 80.  

When I was a small child, I would visit my grandparents and I was fascinated by the treadle.  The oak veneers were chipping off the top, and the leather belt which drove the machine had long since broken.  It is unknown how long the machine had been idle before I took an interest.  On one visit, I pestered my family to the point that they asked my mother's cousin to come over and fix the machine.  He came over one evening, installed a new leather belt and the machine worked just fine.  I was thrilled.  My new favorite past time at my grandparents' house was sewing on this old treadle machine.

In 1983, my grandfather passed away and my mother and her siblings gathered to distribute the household possessions.  My mother asked if she could have the sewing machine for me.  No one objected, and I'm now very privileged to own this machine.  My father and I restored the cabinet and metal frame in the summer of 1983.  I stripped and refinished the wood and metal parts of the cabinet, my dad installed a new oak veneer on the top.  There is a deep gouge in the cabinet, and I did not repair it.  My mother believes it was carved by her brother, Addison, who passed away in 1955 from a firearm accident.  He was seventeen years old.

I used the machine until 1988, when I purchased a new Bernina sewing machine.  I eventually removed the old singer machine from the cabinet.  The cabinet traveled with me as I moved first to Pennsylvania and then to California.  The machine remained in my parents attic for over 20 years.  This past Thanksgiving, we boxed up the machine and shipped it to California.  It's been on my workbench for almost two weeks, and I'm very close to getting it back into service.  I've started calling it "Lula", in memory of the remarkable woman who sewed for her family for many years.


"Lula"- partially disassembled and before any cleaning.