It was a mild, cloudy day for our Piedmont Recreation Department’s Walking on Wednesdays group this Wednesday when 45 walkers with one K-9 best friend assembled at the Exedra for our weekly walk.
The prior Wednesday we had walked to the northwest side of Piedmont and Kingston Avenue. One of the historic homes we saw was that of Chad O who also owns Mulberry’s Market. The historical basis for the store’s name is on Littlewood Drive. We had not gone to Littlewood this year, so it was the morning’s destination.
We walked Highland, Sheridan, Lakeview Avenues and Poplar Way. We stopped at the Mountain and Bellevue intersection to catch our breath and let the long line of walkers catch up. We noted the small Island Oak that replaced the iconic Sequoia in the traffic circle there. This redwood stood in this intersection for generations. It served as Piedmont’s first holiday tree during the 1920s and 30s, and this distinction was only stopped by the onset of WWII. However, the Sequoia was dying and needed to be removed last fall. Park commissioner Jack F noted the small traffic island has no regular source of water, and a gator water bag has been put around the oak’s trunk. It will be supplied with water by the City for two years to help the tree survive and thrive.
After this respite, we were on to Dudley Avenue and a climb to the top of the long Littlewood cul de sac. A group photo was taken, and the surprising history of Piedmont’s Silk Farm from a past Piedmont Post article that was shared. At end the end of the 19th century there were only three times of cloth - cotton, wool and silk. The U.S. government thought silk could be produced in America, and funded groups to create experimental silk producing stations. It was believed silk production could provide employment for women, reduce unemployment, and increase family income.
In the early 1880s the Ladies’ Silk Culture Society purchased 15 acres of land at the top and eastern side of Mountain Avenue, where Dudley and Littlewood Avenues are today. The society planted mulberry trees, whose leaves are silkworms’ food, and built a two-story, eight-room cocoonery. The locals called it the “Silk Farm.” By 1885 the grove was thriving, an additional seven acres were obtained, and about 100 women were employed.
During their lives, silkworms consume 50 times their weight in mulberry leaves, which the women harvested, chopped, and fed to the worms in trays four times a day. The worms reached maturity in 35 days and spun their cocoons. The Silk Farm’s cocoons were fumigated to kill the pupa, softened in hot water, unreeled as separate silken fibers. One cocoon could produce a continuous silk filament 200 to 300 feet long. Several filaments were spun together to form one silk thread.
Unfortunately, the Silk Farm didn’t prosper. The canyon was not warm enough for the worms and the women would not work for less than a dollar a day, while Chinese workers were only paid six cents a day. In 1895 the farm closed. We descended the Littlewood canyon where the Silk Farm’s mulberry trees once were. Sadly, there are no Littlewood mulberry trees today to give witness to the street’s history.
Some of us remembered two years ago we got a surprise invitation to visit the home at the end of Littlewood with a unique yard by its then owners. Albert and Swee L C are neighbors and recounted that the owners bought the house in 2014 and wanted to build their version of Bali. They transformed the area at the front into an incredible tropical garden with a swimming pool, water slide, and pool house. Jungle sound effects enhanced this imaginary, other world. However, they later realized maintaining this tropical paradise was very expensive and they sold the house. We also remembered that just before the home’s large front gate was an old, red, London telephone booth. However, like the Sequoia and the mulberries, it was gone. The owners took it with them when they sold the house.
All this history was fun, but we decided we didn’t want to do any more climbing of Dudley, so we retraced our steps back to the Exedra.
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