From Where

The Wind Blows

By Nancy K. Crevier

“No one can tell me,

Nobody knows,

Where the wind comes from,

Where the wind goes.”

—From Wind On The Hill, by A.A. Milne

If a weathervane tops a building, though, it is easy to tell “Where the wind comes from, Where the wind goes.” Weathervanes, decorative directional markers made of cast lead, iron, brass, or copper, were originally heraldic “fanes” in the medieval era. The metal flags were flown by English nobility alone, and were not generally intended as instruments of weather prediction, but rather as a display of the family crest.

According to author Myrna Kaye, in Yankee Weathervanes, by the 17th Century most important British buildings had a weathervane affixed to the top. The idea of the weathervane followed settlers to America, and by the 1700s a thriving industry of weathervane makers was putting out finely crafted vanes in whimsical, but practical, shapes.

A popular design was the weathercock, a rooster shape that was actually the predecessor of the fane, according to Ms Kaye. The Puritan population favored the fane, adhering to Biblical admonitions to avoid graven images, though, so it was not until the 18th Century that the rooster began topping New England structures — including the bullet-peppered bird that roosts above Newtown’s Meeting House.

Over time, weathervanes have been crafted to depict nearly any animal, sport, recreation, or vocation. A 1971 Pyne Press reprint of the 1893 Illustrated Catalogue of weathervanes by the well-known craftsman J.W. Fiske of the late 19th and early 20th Century, shows hundreds of copper weathervanes and flags. The first 17 pages alone are dedicated to horse designs, both with and without riders. Cattle, pigs, sheep, dogs, fish, buffalo, deer, and even dragons are featured weathervanes.

The angel Gabriel blowing his horn, the Goddess of Liberty, or even just the Liberty cap, are also options weathervane shoppers could choose that year.

Elaborate weathervanes included the 7-foot-long steam fire engine with horse, driver and fireman, or the 72-inch-long locomotive and tender.

Arrow vanes embellished with star bursts, personalized, or garbed in fanciful scrolls pointed the way, and J.W. Fiske was happy to fashion dozens of banners more in the style of the original English fanes.

Eagles, such as that found on top of Hawley School, are among the birds designs in the Fiske catalog, along with ostrich, pigeons, owls, and doves. The origins of the Hawley School eagle are not known. No date or signature as to the designer or manufacturer was apparent when Stuart Hall of Brook Farm Metal Works in Botsford refurbished the damaged weathervane late last year.

The spire of the Newtown Congregational Church, at its West Street location, holds aloft a dove with an olive branch in its beak. Like the bee that buzzes over The Newtown Bee office building on Church Hill Road, it is the work of craftsman John Hallock of Bethlehem.

Newtown Bee publisher R. Scudder Smith is a longtime collector of weathervane art. “It’s an integral part of folk art, which I love,” said Mr Smith. He estimated that since he began collecting in the 1960s, his collection has grown to number nearly three dozen, including one of the angel Gabriel that is considered to be the best example of a sheet metal Gabriel in the region.

Among the museumlike artifacts that populate the walls and halls of Bee offices are several more weathervanes that Mr Smith has gathered into his keeping over the years. Two arrow vanes come from religious backgrounds, one recovered when the Methodist Church was moved across Church Hill Road, the other a relic of the old Newtown Congregational Church building on Main Street, torn down to make way for the expansion of the Newtown Savings Bank. “They were just going to toss it out,” recalled Mr Smith, “so when I asked about it, they gave it to me.”

Others have come from barns in Connecticut and Vermont, and yet others were purchased from art dealers, Mr Smith said.

Collectors are usually drawn to the design, he said, but what gives a weathervane value is not only the maker, but the patina of the piece. Weathervanes can go for several thousands of dollars, depending on the condition of the surface. Regilding or repainting an older weathervane ruins the value of a piece, he said.

Regardless of the style, what all weathervanes have in common is the ability to turn easily in the breeze.

The weathervane itself is mounted on a vertical pole that turns upon a pivot point, and is placed at the highest point of a roof. The “tail” of the object is crafted to provide a greater surface area, offering resistance. Wind puts pressure on that tail and it is pushed away from the direction of the wind. The head then turns to the direction from which the wind is coming. Savvy weather folks already know North from South and East from West, but just in case, many weathervanes feature compass directions mounted on the pole, below the main feature and above the pivot point.

Weathervanes traditionally served a practical use. Knowledge of wind directions was essential information for farmers, who used that knowledge to predict weather, orient a field, and plant wind blocks. Wind direction could also assist farmers in crop placement for optimum pollination.

Heavily agricultural just a generation ago, it is not surprising, then, that a skyward glance in nearly any part of Newtown provides a glimpse of weathervanes. The skyline is rich with the works of weathervane artists, past and present.

Where does the wind come from? Where does it go? Look up. Newtown’s weathervanes have the answer.