As you intrepid readers know, I've been researching the family of Wallace Clement Sabine (1868–1919) and Jane Downes Kelly Sabine, (1863–1950) who lived at my address from 1909 to 1950.
In January, I spent an afternoon in the archives at Smith College in Northampton. I requested materials about Jane and the class of 1888, and they brought me a rolling cart full of file boxes. Inside I found a slim folder on Jane's undergraduate career, with a few photos and some newspaper clippings from the 1938 commencement, when she received an honorary degree. They also brought me a register or a wooden stand, opened to the page with her transcript.
The file boxes were full of the annual class letters, which were published in little paperbound volumes beginning in 1889. I found letters from Jane in almost every one until the year she died. From them I learned a lot about Jane and her family through the years, but I can't quote any of it without permission because it's still copyrighted until 2020.
What I can show you are a few photos of Jane from class group photos during her years at Smith, and a few more taken during reunions. It took me a while to recognize her in the sea of her classmates' tiny faces, but once I did, she became familiar and unmistakeable. (All photos are from the Sophia Smith Collection at Smith College.)
The class photos were not dated, but this strikes me the earliest photo. She was not one to smile for the camera, as some of her classmates did. She often looks pensive, serious, even a bit grumpy. In this photo she seems wistful. I keep in mind that she had recently lost both of her parents; her father was badly wounded in the Civil War and she had only known him as an invalid. After her parents died, she lived with her grandmother in Providence, Rhode Island.
Here's another photo. She was a petite woman and her hands look tiny in those tight kidskin gloves:
I like the photo below, where she is looking directly at the photographer. I see spirit and intelligence in her expression.
Here is her graduation portrait. She was 25 and one of the most academically accomplished and career-minded members of her class. She was close to many classmates, and they stayed in touch and visited each other through their lives. She planned to teach science:
This photo was also used as her engagement portrait in 1900, twelve years later. In the intervening years she taught, traveled, worked as a chaperone in a girls' school, and graduated from Northwestern University's Women's Medical School — during the Chicago World's Fair, where she and her future husband once ran into each other, having met previously while she was doing medical research at Harvard. She left Chicago to do post-graduate work at Johns Hopkins and then settled in Boston in 1895, where she opened a medical office in Back Bay while working at Children's Hospital. (Boston was a welcoming city for women doctors.) She became very involved in the women's suffrage movement for a time but moved on ("surrendered" probably describes it best), saying that Massachusetts would likely be the very last state to give women voting rights.
It was far more common for well-bred women like Jane, a Mayflower descendant, to marry in their teens than to graduate from college and take up a man's profession. Many of her Smith classmates would have returned home after graduation and married soon after, in their early 20s, if they hadn't already dropped out of school to marry a beau. Those who remained single and had to work often became schoolteachers. I imagine that many of her friends had written her off as a spinster for years when she surprised them by marrying when she was nearly 37. At that age most of her class were already established matrons with half-grown children. (And, of course, in those days it wasn't that uncommon to be a grandmother at that age.)
A Harvard assistant professor of physics, her husband Wallace was a fellow nerd; their courtship was probably based around technical discussions of physics, medicine, and new technologies. Besides being brilliant, he was kind, modest, charming, attractive, and five years her junior. His parents adored her and were proud of her accomplishments.
From her student years until she died, Jane wore her long, straight hair in a twisted topknot, never adopting the bobbed hairstyles that became popular in the 1920s, when she was a widow in her 50s. She also continued to wear her skirts long, even though they tripped her sometimes and made her fall.
Jane said she "never did take a good photograph." I have never seen a wedding portrait of her and Wallace, or any photo of the two of them together. They had passport photos taken when they had to travel, and they sat separately for studio portraits shortly before he died in 1919.
But here's a detail from a Smith reunion photo, perhaps from 1903. She's on the right. There is a pencil inscription on the back this photo that says, "Choice specimens of '88."
If this is indeed June, 1903, Jane is 39, married to Wallace but also devoted to her demanding career as an orthopedic surgeon. She is also four or five months pregnant with their first child, Janet.
I can't help thinking that she, despite her Old New England propriety and her professional gravitas, was something of a . . . well, . . . badass, or whatever the opposite of "shrinking violet" was called in those days. In spite of all the effusive, affectionate messages she sent to her classmates across the decades in nearly sixty annual class letters, I look at this photo and imagine she had "attitude." She clearly believed in and respected herself as a being equal to men. How else could she have gotten her medical training — the male-dominated medical profession can still make female medical students struggle, so imagine it in the 1890s. And then Jane managed to flourish in the 1900s as a surgeon and half of a dual-career couple, the very rarest of birds, even in Boston back then.
This is a very enlightened, modern woman. And I would never want to start an argument with her.
Imagine my delight when she wrote about this photo in her class letter of 1941. She said she never photographed well, but, to "comfort [her] wounded pride" over this photo in particular, she explained that the reason she seems to be "biting nails" is that she'd forgotten to bring long hatpins to secure her cap to Northampton. It was "topply" as it balanced on her topknot, she reported. Even with lots of borrowed, short hairpins, her expression was "due to fear" that her cap looked foolishly awry, disgracing herself and her classmates in photos. Then she reported that, once, during a surgical society gathering, she accidentally wore Wallace's cap, which didn't match her robe. She thought everyone was staring at her because it looked so bad — until she realized they were still surprised by a lady wearing a surgeon's academic robes at all.
I'm even more delighted that she took the trouble to explain all this three years later to her entire class, in a letter that is supposed to be a summing-up of the previous year. It's touching to know that she kept Wallace's academic regalia with her own for at least twenty years after he died.
She looks much more relaxed and pleasant in this photo from the 1938 reunion:
By 1948, Jane had survived losing her husband and both daughters, leaving only a granddaughter, also named Janet, as her next of kin. She reported with pride that Janet was a Smith undergrad at the time of this reunion. In her '48 class letter, she also mentions her rheumatic knee, which kept her from marching in the reunion procession and accounts for the cane. Over the years, she had taken some bad tumbles down the stairs of the house where I now live.
In this photo I can see that she's wearing what appears to be a wedding band on each hand. The one on her right hand may be Wallace's; he had died 29 years earlier. Everyone in her family was cremated and interred at Mount Auburn Cemetery, so his ring may not have been buried with him.
In her final, 1949 class letter, published a few months before she died, she reported that her knee was better, allowing her some "promenading," but only around the block. She was afraid to cross the street lest she fall in avoiding an "unexpected recklessly driven automobile." (Some things in Back Bay haven't changed.) When I leave our house, which was hers for so long, I often think of her preceding me on the same brick sidewalks. Her life and times were so different, but it has been strangely easy to discover facets of her, and to come to know her a little.
For more about the Sabine family, click the "Sabines" label in the right column.