The Fireman Behind the Owl

Posted on 5/8/26

Authored & Curated By
M.J.G.

Research sometimes leads into unexpected rabbit holes, and this group of photographs from the Hingham Public Library Glass Slide Collection did exactly that. While searching through the collection, I noticed that many images were only loosely identified, while others were left unidentified altogether. The first photograph that caught my attention was this playful scene with the owl. At first, it was simply an interesting and unusual image, but the more I studied it, the more connections began to appear. One of the men pictured on the shelf looked familiar, and I eventually realized he appeared in other photographs from the same collection. Although my photo studies usually focus on historic interiors, decorative arts, and domestic spaces, this image led me down a different path into late nineteenth-century people in Hingham, Massachusetts.

Thanks to Hingham Public Library for permission to use their photographs.

This glass plate negative is especially crisp and high resolution, which makes the small details fun to study. The photographer appears in the mirror’s reflection. He took several photographs in this room, but who he was remains a mystery for now.

In rooms without a fireplace or mantel, residents sometimes installed a shelf with a mirror, or even a mantel étagère above it, to create a similar display area for a mantel clock and other typical decorative objects of the period. In the reflection, we can see the opposite side of the room. The windows appear to have no curtains, only simple dark roller shades. To the left, the wallpaper seems to have a metallic surface, catching the light and reflecting part of its pattern.

Who placed a taxidermy owl on top of the mantel clock, and put a small shovel, with a little bucket attached, in its beak. It is a playful and unusual detail, and it gives the photograph a slightly humorous quality.

It is also interesting to see the man reflected in the mirror as he takes the photograph. Was he the person who placed the shovel in the owl’s beak, or was he simply recording a room where someone else had already staged the little scene? That part remains unknown, but the reflection adds another layer of intrigue to the image.

Hanging from the oil lamp wall bracket is what appears to be a cookie or cracker. Looking closely, you can see writing and a small drawing of a horse on its surface. Above the horse are the words A Happy New Year, and at the lower right it is signed Kitty. It is such a fun little detail, and it adds a wonderfully personal touch to the room.

To the left is a Bristol glass vase, an affordable and quite popular decorative object during the period. In the center is a cabinet card of a large mustachioed man, displayed in a wire cabinet card stand. These wire stands were readily available and inexpensive, making them a common way to display family photographs and portraits in the home. To the right stand the small male and female figurines. Just to the left of the Bristol glass vase, you can also see the reflective metallic quality of the wallpaper catching the light.

To the right of the clock is what appears to be a tintype in its case, though it could possibly be a daguerreotype. If you can spot the difference from the photograph, please let us know. To the right of that is another cabinet card, this one showing a young man with a very distinct, severe, or austere expression. The side of the stand also appears to have been decorated with homemade paper crafts, adding another small personal detail to the arrangement.

On the right side, we get a better view of the ornamental oil lamp bracket.

The leaf border around the mirror appears to be picked out in an alternating color, or possibly gilded, which sets it apart from the rest of the ornate frame. This small contrast would have helped emphasize the leaf pattern and added depth to the mirror’s decorative surface.

The fun little handmade or crafty details in these homes are always amusing. Below the shelf appears to be a small rolling pin, suspended with ribbons from a porcelain picture knob. Attached to the fuzzy-looking surface of the rolling pin are what appear to be three small metal hooks.

Here is another angle of the room. Let’s zoom in a little closer and see what other details we may have missed.

There is a man visible in this photograph, though it is unclear whether he is the same young man we saw on the right side of the shelf with the severe expression, or if he is someone else altogether. The resemblance is interesting, but without a clearer view, it is difficult to make a firm identification.

Below that is a nice floral print with ornamental matting, set in a beautiful but simple frame. Nearby are several peacock feathers, which make for a striking decorative touch. Hopefully, when the oil lamp was lit, those feathers were kept far enough away from the flame to avoid being singed.

The owl no longer appears to be holding the little shovel and bucket. Why it was added in the earlier photograph, and why it was removed here, remains part of the mystery. Was it a joke staged for the camera, a temporary decoration, or some kind of inside reference known only to the people in the room?

Looking more closely into the mirror’s reflection, we can see additional details from the opposite side of the room. To the left appears to be another clock, and to the right is a large framed painting. These reflected details help us understand more of the room’s layout, even though only one side of the space was directly photographed.

Here are two portrait photographs of a man and a woman posed in front of the painting and grandfather clock seen earlier in the mirror’s reflection. The wallpaper also appears to be the same, which strongly suggests these portraits were taken in the very same room. The individuals are unidentified, but they may perhaps have been husband and wife.

In this same corner, they also photographed this young lady. She appears in many images from the collection and is one of the few people identified by name: Stella Good. So far, little else has been discovered about her, but with further research, it may be possible to connect these people and bring more of their story back to life.

On the left is the cabinet card seen earlier in the room. As I continued looking through the larger collection, I began noticing what appears to be this same man in several other photographs. I believe it may be the same individual.

This may even be the man seen in the mirror’s reflection, perhaps the person taking the photograph of the room. If so, photography may have been one of his hobbies. On the right are several additional photographs from the collection that most likely show the same unidentified man. Could he be both the man posed in the mirror and the person responsible for taking some of these photographs?

There are several photographs of this same young man on horseback, including views where he appears to be rearing the horses. These images suggest that he was comfortable around horses and may have had some skill in handling them. When seen alongside the fire company photographs, it adds another interesting layer to his story, since horses were still an essential part of late nineteenth-century firefighting equipment and transportation.

This portrait appears to show the same man, this time with a stern gaze directed off into an unknown distance. Judging by his freckled complexion, it is possible that he had auburn or ginger hair.

The man on the left also appears to be the same individual seen in the previous portrait, where he was posed looking off into the distance. The facial structure, expression, and overall presence seem similar enough to suggest a possible match, though the identification remains tentative.

Within the same collection of glass plate negatives are several images of the Isaac Little Hose Co, connected to Hingham’s fire department history. Looking more closely at those scenes, the same man appears to show up again. By the late nineteenth century, fire safety was becoming much more organized and modern. Earlier firefighting often depended on hand-pumped engines, leather buckets, and whatever help could be gathered quickly. As towns grew denser and buildings became larger, communities began investing in better equipment, organized hose companies, fire alarms, hydrants, drills, and more formal training.

Here again appears to be the same man, with that familiar serious expression. In the foreground is a younger man who also appears with him in several other photographs, often wearing a similarly severe expression. The sternness of both men, especially the young man seated in front, is somewhat comical and gives the photograph an unexpectedly amusing quality.

The firemen pose in front of their firehouse with the hoses drawn out for the photograph. Some sit on the wagon, while others stand around it, carefully arranged for the camera. One fantastic detail is the lettering stenciled on the window shades, which reads Isaac Little Hose 1.

All the way to the left is the main character of today’s story: the stern-faced man with no name. He is a man from the past who appears again and again throughout the collection. While his identity remains unknown, the photographs suggest that he was connected to photography, horses, and the Isaac Little Hose Co, where he may have served as part of Hingham’s fire rescue efforts.

At the bottom, we can see the same man from earlier, still wearing that almost comically furrowed brow. Around him are several other firemen, each showing varying levels of enthusiasm about being photographed.

This photograph shows the same group of men posed on the wagon, this time in front of an unidentified house on Main Street. The change in setting makes the image especially useful, since it connects the Isaac Little Hose Co group not only to the firehouse, but also to the larger streetscape of Hingham.

Take a close look at the two windows on the left. They appear to have large single-panel louvered shutters, which is an interesting architectural detail and may help identify the house if it still exists, or if it appears in another historic view of Main Street.

Looking to the left of the group picture, we can see the same two men again. Their repeated appearance in these photographs helps strengthen the idea that they were central figures in this small visual story preserved within the collection and had a very full life.

Fire Drill
They also took time to photograph a fire drill, and it looks to have been quite an event. One especially interesting detail is the escape ladder, or perhaps slide, which adds another layer of curiosity to the scene.

It is fun to see the guy smiling in there with this body resting on the back of the material and his two feet on the rungs keeping him from sliding down.

Scenes like this fire drill show that fire protection was not only about responding after a fire had started. It was also about preparation. Firemen practiced with ladders, hoses, wagons, and rescue equipment so they could act quickly when a real emergency occurred. Escape ladders, slides, and other rescue devices reflected a growing concern for getting people safely out of upper floors, especially as schools, factories, hotels, and public buildings became more common.

The old fire truck is beautifully lettered, with VOLUNTEER H. & L. 1 painted across the side. Another interesting detail is the row of hats hanging neatly along the top rail, a small but vivid reminder of the men who used this equipment.

These late nineteenth-century drills mark an important transition. Fire companies were becoming more professional, more disciplined, and better equipped. What may look like a community spectacle in the photograph was also a serious exercise in public safety, showing how towns like Hingham were adapting to the risks of a changing modern world.

This photograph is a true action shot, capturing the moment a man jumps into the rescue net below. We do not know the true outcome of the jump, but one can only hope the men held the net very tightly as he came down from the third floor.

In the end, the little owl with the bucket and shovel becomes a fitting symbol for this whole unexpected journey. At first, it appears to be nothing more than a humorous detail placed on a shelf for the camera. But as the photographs begin to connect, that small object starts to feel almost poetic. Behind it, blurred in the mirror, is the man who slowly becomes the thread running through the story: the stern-faced horseman, the fireman, and perhaps the photographer himself.

Like the owl, he watches from the edges of the image. He is present, but unnamed. The bucket and shovel, playful as they may be, also hint at work, service, and readiness. They connect surprisingly well to a life spent around horses, fire equipment, and the practical labor of protecting a town. What began as a curious little joke in a room became a doorway into a larger story of Hingham, its volunteer firemen, and one unidentified man who keeps reappearing from the past.

We may not know his name yet, but through these photographs, he is no longer completely lost. He stands in the background, blurred but present, helping lead us from a single strange detail on a mantel shelf into the fuller story of a life, a room, and a community worth remembering.

Leave questions, or your own research in the comments section below.

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