Over the years, I’ve written several
articles and blogs that provided information about the Murphy Wagon Company in
St. Louis, Missouri. From the history of
early trails and freighting to the opening of the West, the firm and its
founder, Joseph Murphy, are easily among the most legendary transportation
icons in America. As such, there are
many historians, collectors, and enthusiasts who chase the Murphy star,
intently hunting for surviving pieces from this part of our past.
I stumbled onto my first materials
related to Murphy over fifteen years ago.
Since then, our focused search and rescue efforts have been painfully
slow in rewards. Even with so little primary source data uncovered through the course of time, our archives are fortunate to hold a number of
rare and important insights into the Murphy legacy. Still, finding original materials from this
maker remains a daunting task. How daunting? Well, period accounts report that Murphy
built some 200,000 wagons in his day – 200,000!
How many of these have been found?
Let’s see... would you believe none, nada, zero, zilch? Truth is, not even a particle of a piece of
one of his wagons has ever been authoritatively identified. Clearly, the difficulties of discovery
surrounding this acclaimed builder make the brand one of the most elusive and desirable
on the planet.
I’ve said all of this to help explain my
feelings about a decade ago when I unexpectedly came across not one or even two
letters from the Murphy firm but thirteen.
It was one of those times as a collector and historian that felt a bit
surreal. During the acquisition process,
I kept a record of some of my feelings and always meant to share them within a
feature magazine article at some point.
As time has passed, I’ve never gotten around to putting the finishing
touches on the piece and – since I needed material for this week’s blog – below are some excerpts from what I’d started along with a few insights into those incredibly
rare surviving letters from J. Murphy & Sons...
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The above image is part of an 1883
letterhead promoting Joseph Murphy’s wagons.
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The area I’ve fronted in red helps point
out the Murphy Wagon Works where it was located on Broadway street in St.
Louis.
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I was nervous and fumbling with the
perforated zip tab, trying to carefully open the small cardboard package. It was hard to believe what was
happening. My hands shook with excitement
and my mind was a whirlwind, consumed with anticipation. I knew I should look for a more tranquil
setting than the post office parking lot but I wanted to know more, first hand
from this man I had heard so much about.
A few days before, I had received an
email confirming my purchase of several dusty, brittle, age-stained and
seemingly worthless nineteenth century letters.
Lost, forgotten and packed away in the stale, cramped quarters of an
otherwise ordinary box, these handwritten notes were now part of our Wheels That Won The West® collection of early western vehicle history. They were an amazing discovery. Taking us back more than one hundred and
thirty years, the tracks of deep blue ink on the soiled envelopes are
surrounded by the invisible fingerprints of a literal legend in the development
of the American West. The notion of such
a fresh find set my mind to wandering, drifting to a time in transportation
history when wheels were wooden, tires were steel, and horse flesh was king of
the road.
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This photo collage shows a number of the
1880’s-era Murphy letters held in the Wheels That Won The West® Archives.
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The 1880’s were heady days for many of
the most established American vehicle makers.
The U.S. had just celebrated its first century and the nation’s
yearnings for transportation and travel were well-rooted. Reinforcing that point, in October of 1887,
the 15th Annual Convention of American Carriage Builders took place in
Washington, D.C. As President of the
association, Clement Studebaker – also President of the Studebaker Brothers
Manufacturing Company during this time – delivered the keynote address. Within the body of his speech, Mr. Studebaker
estimated the number of horse drawn vehicle makers in America at 80,000. Contributing to that number with its own
share of vehicle makers was St. Louis, Missouri. As the ‘Gateway to the West,’ the city had a
long history of outfitting emigrants headed toward the setting sun as well as
supplying transports for military expeditions, freighters, farmers, businesses,
and ranchers. That same year, the
population of St. Louis hovered around a half million and the city claimed more
than 125 wagon and carriage makers/repairers.
Also in St. Louis during 1887, legendary
wagon maker Joseph Murphy was celebrating his 62nd year in business and was
working to transition the management of the company to his sons by the
following year. During his last handful
of years running the firm, Mr. Murphy penned several letters to a wood mill in
America, Illinois. It was this group of
letters I had stumbled across and almost immediately I learned that they are likely his
last surviving business correspondence.
Together, they shed even more light on the reputation of a man who made
quality the ultimate standard for heavy, horse drawn vehicles while leaving a
legacy that continues to overshadow almost every other western vehicle
maker.
Setting up shop in 1825, Murphy quickly
became known as an expert in his knowledge of wood. From primary source research to later
interviews with relatives sharing the family’s oral history, this legacy is a
consistent message continually repeated about Murphy. That fact has significant bearing on the
content of the letters we acquired.
In addition to the letters, we've managed to acquire a few more pieces, including an 1881 promotional flyer. Most of the materials include illustrations of a Murphy farm-style wagon (which also happens to be the only authenticated images of any type of Murphy wagon). There are variations in the letterhead
designs and one is written on a plain, ruled sheet and then embossed with a
seal. The writings encompass a five-year
period from 1883 through 1887.
Surrounding each of the folded letters, the tattered and discolored
envelopes hearken to a period in American history when Geronimo was
surrendering to the U.S. military, numerous U.S. states were still territories,
and William F. Cody was introducing his first Wild West shows.
While close to two-thirds of the letters
contain the flowing script and carefully penned words of a schooled clerk, the
others are even more exciting. For in
those letters, there is something very different. Dated to the specific years of 1883 and 1887,
these individual pieces are written in an aged hand with occasional phonetic
misspellings, an authoritative tone, and a clear command of experience with raw
timber and wagon construction. The most
stirring part of this is that these letters aren’t the only place where I’ve
seen this exact handwriting. Precisely
the same penmanship can be seen in Joseph Murphy’s account books held at the
Missouri Historical Society in St. Louis.
From the punctuation and misspellings to the individual character
strokes, shapes, slants, and overall alignments, roughly a handful of the
letters were clearly connected to the same writer in Murphy’s earliest
surviving account books – Joseph Murphy, himself.
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This image showcases one of the earliest
known advertisements for Joseph Murphy wagons.
It dates to the 1850’s.
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As I’d mentioned earlier, these letters
had been sent to a saw mill in America, Illinois, roughly 150 miles southeast
of St. Louis. The mill was owned by
Benjamin Franklin Mason. Mr. Mason had
been engaged in that business since 1865 and had, apparently, first been
approached by Joseph Murphy around 1880 to supply him with custom-sawn hickory
for axles. The letters to B.F. Mason
contained specific instructions for raw timber that Murphy needed to produce
wagons. The content of the notes was
straight-forward and business-like. One,
in particular, gave explicit instructions on the type of wood stock needed,
when it should be cut from the forest, the dimensions needed, when and where to
be sent, and the expected costs. Murphy
also detailed his interest in what he referred to as “No. 1 timber” as well as
his concerns with bugs – i.e. powder post beetles. As an established and well-respected builder,
he knew the problems these critters could wreak and made no bones about his
disdain for this part of nature.
Murphy’s writings also included references to at least six different
axles sizes for wagons being built in his shops.
There are more details in the letters
and it’s possible that some of that information may hold the key to the
eventual discovery and authentication of a Murphy wagon. At any rate, we continue to be vigilant. While there are no known Murphy wagon
survivors, we can confirm – through Murphy’s own firsthand accounts – that he
was a stickler for quality, attention to detail, and customer satisfaction. Hearing it directly from the man himself,
more than one hundred thirty years later, is a clear reminder of the value of
continuing the search and remaining optimistic.
To some, Joseph Murphy is celebrated as
a successful Irish immigrant. To others,
he’s remembered for his connections to freighting on the Santa Fe Trail. But, to historic vehicle enthusiasts, he’s
perhaps the most legendary American wagon maker of them all. It’s been almost two hundred years since his
beginnings in St. Louis and well over a century since the last Murphy wagon was
made. Tomorrow could be the day when the
first one is found. A long shot you
say? Maybe. But then, what chance did a small collection
of 1880’s-era letters have of surviving for so long? People move every day. Forgotten items are lost, tossed, and
regularly destroyed. Tucked away,
isolated in an attic, time somehow stood still and these pieces survived. I’m convinced it was all for a reason. A reason surrounded by hope and reinforced by
a promise that those who truly seek will find.
Have a great week!
Please Note: As with each of our blog writings, all imagery and text is copyrighted with All Rights Reserved. The material may not be broadcast, published, rewritten, or redistributed without prior written permission from David E. Sneed, Wheels That Won The West® Archives, LLC
