Little Purple Flowers

From Ruth Mills' dinner parties and Broadway murder trials to French battlefields and President Roosevelt's inaugurations, Marie Louise was fashionable everywhere.

Meet Marie Louise ... no, not her - the flower!
Courtesy of HVNY.

Named for the second wife of Napoleon, the fragrant double Parma "Marie Louise" violet was at the height of fashion for generations during the Gilded Age. From the late-1800s to the mid-1900s, violets were among the world's most popular flowers and the mecca for the little purple flowers was none other than Dutchess County! The stretch of the Hudson Valley from Red Hook down to Poughkeepsie was known as the Violet Belt in the United States, with Rhinebeck - just 10 minutes north of Staatsburgh - the Violet Capital of the World.

The whole industry began with two brothers - William and George Saltford. Born in England and employed as gardeners on English estates, they immigrated to New York in the early years after the Civil War. William found work as a gardener on the growing Hudson Valley estates, which, during the early Gilded Age, fashioned themselves on the very estates William previously worked for in England. He and his brother started importing violets from England to be planted in their new places of employment, and the flowers flourished in the Dutchess County soil. This was the beginning of the Hudson Valley's violet boom.

Carts of violet crates, Rhinebeck.
Courtesy of HVNY.

From those initial violets imported to Rhinebeck by the Saltfords, grew a national industry supplying a quarter of the nation's violets. For a period, due to a special tax on violets, the flower was one of the single largest income generators for Dutchess County. In 1902, George Saltford even wrote the book "How to Make Money Growing Violets" - he certainly was the expert! At the peak, on the eve of WWI, there were hundreds of violet greenhouses in Rhinebeck alone. The local Trombini Brothers - one of several large-scale growers known as the Violet Kings - operated 18 greenhouses. The town became known as Crystal City due to the amount of glass reflecting in the area. Yet growing violets was labor intensive. As shown in the photo below, harvesters had to lay on wood planks atop the cramped flower beds for easier access. Harvesting was all done by hand too. It is reported a good laborer could pick 5,000 flowers a day! Each greenhouse was heated by coal furnaces to maintain the ideal temperature and humidity for the violets to grow in. The flowers were then wrapped together, boxed in crates, and made ready for shipping. These crates - aboard the Violet Special out of local train stations - were sent across the country. Hudson Valley violets were sold on street corners from Chicago to Boston.

Violet growers on their wooden boards atop the flower beds.
Courtesy of HVNY.

Courtesy of HVNY.

Along with the Trombinis and Saltfords of Rhinebeck there was Staatsburgh's own James Blair. He began as gardener for Ogden and Ruth Mills in the 1890s - and was later the estate superintendent until the 1920s - Blair was in his mid-30s when he emigrated from Ireland and was quickly employed by the Mills. Thus, it is possible that he may have had gardening experience from large estates in Ireland, like William Saltford in England, but that isn't clear from records. It is known, however, that Blair grew violets. Just north of the estate's main greenhouses growing the fruits, vegetables, and assorted flowers for Staatsburgh and the Millses' 5th Avenue mansion in New York were the violet houses. There are numerous newspaper accounts of the flower expos into which Ogden Mills entered James Blair's violets - such as this article from 1909. The Mills were not alone, however. Their neighbor to the south, Frederick William Vanderbilt, entered his little purple flowers in local competitions too! Frederick Vanderbilt and Ogden Mills always found themselves competing against each other for top prize - as in 1914, Vanderbilt won out over the Mills for the "Society Prize" for "50 double blue violets."

James Blair.

"a professional"

Beyond Staatsburgh, the violet was all the rage and popped up all around the Millses' world. The little purple flowers were common as table decorations for the 5th Avenue hostesses. Society writer Ward McAllister made special note of "the modest little violet carpeting the valleys" when describing an extravagant dinner table with a monumental centerpiece covered in flowers. Perhaps Hudson Valley violets were among the 38,000 violets decorating Mrs. Cornelius Vanderbilt's luncheon table for a visiting English princess. 

Most violets would be made into corsages worn by fashionable women of the day. Easter was by far the busiest season for violet growers, followed closely by Valentine's Day. It was not just religious services or holidays, however. Violet corsages were to be worn at events from the National Horse Show to the Harvard-Yale football game. Evelyn Nesbitt reportedly wore violets in her hat during her husband's trial for the murder of Stanford White, Staatsburgh's architect. Violets were infused in liquor as a nausea remedy during the Gilded Age. The little purple flower even made its way into the kitchen! Dishes like violet jelly or custards were popular, as well as salads garnished with violets. Henry Thaw, Evelyn Nesbitt's husband, took this one step further: According to one newspaper, when she first met him in 1903, Thaw ATE her violet corsage from another suitor!

"Parma Violet" from Favorite Flowers of Garden and Greenhouse (1896).

Of course, violets were not a new discovery and the little purple flowers have been celebrated for centuries. Dating back to the Ancient Greeks, the violet's health benefits have been touted. For generations, violets were seen by Christians as symbols of the Virgin Mary. In Tudor England, violets were employed to treat headaches, constipation, and even depression! When composer Frédéric Chopin died in 1849, his students bought every violet in Paris for his gravesite. Napoleon was known to carry violets in his uniform (as mentioned, the Marie Louise variety of Parma violet was named for his wife, the Duchess of Parma). Even Queen Victoria had a fondness for the flower, with 105 mentions of violets in her life-long diary collection.  In the Victorian Era, the modesty and fidelity associated with the violet, because of its deferential manner, inspired the phrase "shrinking violet" in 1820, projecting the modesty of the violet onto people.

For a variety of reasons, the violet faded in popularity after the Gilded Age. For most women, the new casual styles of the 1920s did not have a space for Victorian corsages. Conrad Lug noted "women don't wear enough clothes to hold up a corsage" in the Poughkeepsie New Yorker (Decades later, when the Trombini Brothers shut their greenhouses, they noted "the growth of the blue-jean generation and the decline of the long formal evening gown have made corsages almost obsolete"). In addition, black rot was wreaking havoc on the violet crops. Growers required costly soil disinfectants and greenhouse treatments. The constant upkeep on wooden greenhouses and soil remedies made violets less economically appealing. The evolution in fashion and a shift towards flowers grown more easily and cheaply, coupled with the overall industrialization of the 1940s, spelled the end of the violet. 

1900s

Not her grandmother's dress

Homophobia, set off from a single Broadway play, is what many point to as the end of the violet in mainstream culture. "The Captive," a scandalous 1927 Broadway play - adopted from the French La Prisonnière - involved a storyline in which an adulterous wife and her female mistress showed their affection through ... violets. Overnight, violets became a well-known symbol for the lesbian community in the United States. "Closeted" and "out" women alike bought up the flowers in droves and began wearing them proudly (and defiantly!). As a result, violets became forever tied to lesbian culture in the eyes of the American public, who within months not only shunned "The Captive" but the little purple flower as well. 

There were efforts to revive the violet industry by prominent local women. Ruth and Ogden Millses' neighbor Helen Huntington Hull, a member of the Dinsmore and Huntington families of Staatsburg and the first Mrs. Vincent Astor, championed the local flower in later years. Eleanor Roosevelt wore Dutchess County violets to her husband's inaugurations. 

Despite Roosevelt's and Hull's efforts, the last "Violet Kings" of the Hudson Valley closed their greenhouses in the 1970s. Discussing the retirement of the Trombini Brothers of Rhinebeck, the New York Times noted  in 1979 "the violet corsage and nosegay, symbols of romance in bygone days, will fade like the flower into nostalgia." Today, if you know where to look on Violet Ave - running from Rhinebeck through Poughkeepsie - you can still find shards of glass in the soil from the long-forgotten violet houses.