Deborah Sampson (1760-1827) is well-remembered for her actions during the Revolutionary War. She decided it was her calling to serve in the Continental Army, so she disguised herself as a man and enlisted.

She served successfully for 17 months in an area near West Point, known as Neutral Ground. The discovery of her gender occurred when she was sent with her regiment to Philadelphia. Many of the soldiers—including Deborah- became seriously ill. Sampson’s fever became so high that she lost consciousness, and a doctor treating her must have realized her circumstances. He did not turn her in at that time.

To fully measure Deborah Sampson’s grit, readers must see that her bravery was not a temporary wartime impulse, but her defining trait. She grew up in poverty. Because she was placed as an indentured servant, she realized that overcoming difficulty meant rejecting traditional boundaries. Throughout her life, Sampson had to forge her own way.

Growing Up in Massachusetts

Deborah Sampson (also spelled Samson in some sources) was born in Plympton, Massachusetts. She came from parents of notable lineage. Her father Jonathan was descended from Henry Samson who crossed to the colonies on the Mayflower. Her mother was the great-granddaughter of William Bradford, the second Governor of Plymouth Colony.

Despite this heritage, her parents could barely get by in this new country. The couple soon had seven children. Jonathan Sampson announced he could help them by going to sea, leaving his wife at home with seven children and little money.  (If Jonathan did go to sea, he never returned home. Later he was found living in Maine with a new wife.)

In that era, mothers who were overwhelmed often placed some of the children with other families. This was the option that Deborah’s mother chose, and Deborah was one of five who were sent elsewhere. Initially, Deborah lived as a companion with an elderly relative, but Deborah was only five at the time, so her mother found another option. Deborah was moved to live with a woman referred to as Widow Thatcher. (Widow Thatcher is thought to be the person who taught Deborah to read and write.) But when the widow died, Deborah’s mother needed yet another solution.

Indentured Servant

Deborah’s mother saw that she needed a more permanent placement for Deborah.  The Jeremiah Thomas family in Middleborough, Massachusetts had many children, and one of their daughters lived at home with children of her own. The Thomas family wanted an indentured servant (a person who remained with them for a guaranteed number of years in return for room and board).  They accepted Deborah and made an arrangement with her mother that she would stay with them until she was 18. Deborah worked hard and was kept very busy.

Jeremiah Thomas was not a mean man, but he saw no need to provide Deborah with anything but her basic needs of food and clothing. He also saw no need for women to be educated. Sampson saw a way around that. She suggested that she stay with the children when they were being tutored so that she could help them with their homework.  Thomas eventually agreed that she could do so if her other work was done.

Living with the Thomas family was not a happy situation for Deborah Sampson, but she created opportunities for herself when she could. While living in their household, she learned woodworking and weaving—two tasks that were beyond the scope of most servants, and ones that were helpful to her later on.

After Her Indentured Service

When Deborah Sampson finished her servitude with the Thomas family, she knew she could rely only on herself. She talked to families in the area whom she thought might need tutoring for their children and/or weaving of cloth for their clothes. Several families welcomed her, so she moved from household to household on an as-needed basis.

One of the tasks she often did for families was run errands, and this frequently took her in and out of the local taverns where the war was being discussed. The Thomas family sent several sons to war, and some of the churches in Middleborough stood against being under the thumb of Great Britain. As Deborah went around the town, she heard much talk about the importance of liberty. After her time as a servant, she felt it, too.  

Deborah Sampson’s Determination to Enlist

While Deborah Sampson’s interest in enlisting was unusual, she had few things holding her back. Her mother was rarely in touch, and Deborah had no lasting ties to the community. She lived as an independent woman. Her exposure to the Patriots’ cause in the taverns and around town must have increased her interest in finding a way to participate. She agreed with the cause for which the Patriots were fighting. The option of adventure and better payment may have persuaded her to come up with the ruse of dressing as a man and enlisting.

She was tutoring and weaving at a home where the family’s son was off to war. Since Deborah stayed in the son’s room, she investigated the clothes he left behind and began experimenting with her appearance. She was a tall (about 5/7”), big-boned woman. She bound her chest and tried on the clothing in his room. They were larger than she needed, but she could see possibilities. When the family was out of town, Sampson tried going out in male garb and must have felt comfortable enough. 

As she developed her plan, Deborah used the young man’s clothing as a pattern for sewing the clothing she needed to make for herself.

Why Did Recruiting Take Place After Yorktown?

Cornwallis surrendered to the Continental Army at Yorktown in the fall of 1781.  But the war was not yet over. The British still occupied New York City, Charleston, and Savannah. Washington knew that if he disbanded the army, the British would re-initiate major attacks. In the meantime, skirmishes occurred up and down the coast for two more years.

For that reason, the towns in Massachusetts were still actively recruiting in the spring of 1782, and Deborah felt ready.

We know from the book she permitted Hermann Mann (The Female Review: Life of Deborah Sampson) to write that her enlistment was her second attempt to join the Army.  Her first attempt was in her local area. Though she felt well-disguised, someone remarked that she looked familiar. Deborah was spooked and gave up the signing bonus she had been promised if she enlisted.

But she didn’t give up. She traveled to another area, Uxbridge, Massachusetts (south of Worcester). No one there knew her, and she signed up as “Robert Shurtleff,” (the records spell her name multiple ways).  Some sources say she had a deceased brother by this name, but ancestry records show that is not true.

Assigned to the 4th Massachusetts

Upon her enlistment on May 20, 1782, she was assigned to Captain George Webb’s company within the 4th Massachusetts Regiment. This unit functioned as “light infantry”—the 18th-century equivalent of an elite, rapid-response force. Reserved exclusively for the army’s most agile and physically fit soldiers, the light infantry specialized in high-stakes reconnaissance, advance skirmishing, and critical rear-guard actions that demanded exceptional endurance.

The regiment was soon deployed to the Hudson Highlands and Westchester County, a chaotic region flanking the strategic American stronghold at West Point. Designated as “Neutral Ground,” the area was anything but peaceful. With the British firmly entrenched in nearby New York City, this No Man’s Land dissolved into absolute lawlessness, defined by constant, bloody skirmishes.

Loyalist marauders routinely terrorized the countryside, turning daily life into a psychological nightmare for local families. Desperate to protect their livelihoods, farmers hid their livestock in nearby swamps and abandoned their beds at night, sleeping in the woods to avoid being attacked in their own homes.

The 4^th Massachusetts was among the units trying to defend the residents, and it was brutal, guerilla-style combat.

Living With the Men

Living in tight quarters in huts with men presented its challenges. Deborah was discreet when she had to take care of personal needs or change clothes. Perhaps because of her size (she was taller than many men who enlisted), no one suspected anything. She learned all the gun maneuvers, marched well, and took orders.

On one occasion she offered to help a fellow soldier mend his uniform, but she soon realized that she shouldn’t make a practice of demonstrating her sewing skills. 

Injured

As a member of Captain George Webb’s elite light infantry unit, “Robert Shurtleff” was part of a 30-man scouting patrol sent south from West Point. Their mission was to hunt down a notorious band of heavily armed Loyalist raiders—frequently called “Cowboys”—who had been terrorizing local Patriot farmers.

Near Tarrytown, the scouting party ran headfirst into an ambush. The fighting quickly devolved from a distant firefight into a chaotic, hand-to-hand melee amidst the brush and trees.

Shurtleff/Sampson sustained two wounds—ono was a saber slash to the head; the other was two musket balls to the thigh. Other members of the company insisted Shurtleff seek medical attention. Deborah was terrified of discovery, so she focused on her head wound while minimizing what happened to her thigh. After her head was bound by the doctor, she left the medical office quickly and used a pocket knife to dig the musket balls out of her leg.

Unfortunately, the wound was serious, and the men were always on the move. Her leg never healed properly, and she was left with a limp. But Sampson was relieved. She accomplished her main goal. No one realized she was female.

New Assignment

Shurtleff/Sampson was a good soldier and was well-respected by the officers in her unit. When a request was sent out for an orderly to work for General John Paterson who was stationed near West Point, Shurtleff was selected. Sampson was concerned about leaving the familiar, but she didn’t have a choice.

All went well with her service for General Paterson, but Paterson needed send soldiers out on another assignment. The provisional government still had not worked out its finances. There was disagreement about currency, and the paper money issued had decreased greatly in value. Soldiers were  not being paid, and they were ready to go home.

 In June of 1783, a mob of roughly 400 unpaid, angry soldiers from the Pennsylvania Line marched on the State House in Philadelphia, blocking the doors and demanding their back pay from Congress.

A panicked Congress ordered George Washington to send federal troops to restore order. Washington dispatched a detachment from West Point under General John Paterson.  As a member of Paterson’s light infantry, Shurtleff/Sampson marched to Philadelphia with the unit, arriving in late June/early July (1783) to put down the rebellion.

 In Philadelphia, this coincided with an outbreak of “malignant fever.” (Disease experts speculate it was malaria.) Many in the city were ill, and those newly arrived, including the soldiers, were susceptible. A good number became ill, including Deborah. Her fever spiked, and she became unconscious. 

Very Sick

At that point, Sampson encountered great good luck. The doctor treating her, Dr. Barnabas Binney (1751-1787), took a look at the young patient and realized he was a her. Amazingly, Binney remained mum. Perhaps the doctor understood how much this soldier had given to the country. He lived with his wife and children, and he sent her to his own home to give her time and space to get better. 

After several weeks, Deborah was ready to live on her own. She feared the worst as she knew she needed to return to the military, but she was steadfast in accepting whatever happened to her.

Dr. Binney arranged for a carriage to take her back to Paterson’s headquarters. She carried with her a note from him to General Paterson. Sampson worried the whole trip about her fate, but when she got there, Paterson took the letter from her. Before reading it, he sent her off to her former quarters where the men were happy to welcome Robert back.

A few days later, she was summoned to come see General Paterson. He asked about her experience, thanked her for her service, and provided her with an honorable discharge on October 25, 1783.

After the Military

Fewer details are known about the next stage of Deborah Sampson’s life. She married Benjamin Gannett, a farmer who inherited a small farm in Sharon, Massachusetts, about 20 miles south of Boston. She became Deborah Sampson Gannett. The couple had 4 children, later adopting a fifth when the little girl was orphaned.

Unfortunately, their life was not easy. The land in Sharon was rocky, and the farm was too small to be able to compensate for the poor soil. The family was barely able to scrape by.

Petitioned for Back Pay

Though Deborah received an honorable discharge, no provision was made for a pension payment given the strange circumstances. She also never received back pay that others in her company received. 

The back pay seemed the most attainable, so in January of 1792, Sampson petitioned the Massachusetts State Legislature for the amount she was due “as a private soldier, under the name of Robert Shurtleff.” After serious consideration, the legislature granted her petition. Governor John Hancock signed it.  She was awarded 34 pounds plus back interest following her 1783 discharge.

It wasn’t much but anything helped.

Lecture Tour

By this time, Deborah Sampson’s story was known locally, so Sampson began thinking more broadly. In 1802, Sampson came up with a plan to travel the area, giving lectures about her wartime service. 

As her performance was staged, Sampson began her speech dressed as a woman, talking about the importance of women during Revolutionary War time.  She then stepped off stage returning in her uniform to demonstrate execution of the military drill and gun maneuvers she learned while in the service.

Audiences enjoyed the lectures, but the income from ticket sales still didn’t provide the funds her family needed.

Paul Revere Helped

After the war, Paul Revere established a copper-rolling mill in Canton, Massachusetts, which was just one town over from Sharon. According to information from the Massachusetts Historical Society, Revere was curious about the “female soldier” he heard about and in 1804, he decided to ride over to visit the Gannett family.

When Revere arrived, he was surprised. Instead of meeting a rough-hewn masculine- seeming woman, he found Deborah to be a refined and articulate woman who was exhausted by her circumstances. She still suffered greatly from the musket ball wound to her leg. Farm work was a struggle for her because of this. 

Details from manuscripts from the Paul Revere House show that Paul Revere noted firsthand how the family struggled. He was moved by her plight and outraged by the government’s neglect of a legitimate veteran, and Revere decided to use his massive political capital to help her. (Paul Revere House)

On February 20, 1804, Revere wrote a passionate letter to his district’s U.S. Congressman, William Eustis. In the letter, Revere didn’t just ask for a favor; he demanded justice. He wrote:

“I think her case much more deserving than hundreds to whom Congress have been generous… we may expect but little from the State Government; if she receives any relief, it must be from the Nation.”  (Massachusetts Historical Society: Object of the Month).

A letter from the highly-respected Patriot Paul Revere carried immense weight. Thanks directly to his intervention and political muscle, Congress finally broke through its bureaucratic gridlock. In 1805, Deborah Sampson was officially placed on the federal invalid pension list, securing her an annual payment that saved her family from financial ruin.

Death of Deborah Sampson

In 1827, Deborah Sampson died and was buried at Rock Ridge Cemetery in Sharon, Massachusetts.

Four years later, her husband Benjamin Gannett petitioned Congress for a pension as the spouse of a veteran.  Several years later (1837), the committee overseeing the history of the Revolution surprisingly agreed. Gannett was awarded a pension but died before he could receive it. 

Recognition Comes Eventually

Today, Deborah Sampson is well-remembered in Massachusetts for her pioneering spirit. In Sharon, she is commemorated by a life-sized bronze statue outside the Sharon Public Library. Her grave at Rock Ridge Cemetery remains a major historic landmark, uniquely bearing both her legal name and her military alias, Robert Shurtleff.

In 1983, Massachusetts further recognized her when they proclaimed her the Official Heroine of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. That year the legislature also established May 23rd (the anniversary of her 1782 enlistment) as Deborah Sampson Day, ensuring that the woman who once had to conceal her identity to serve her country is now publicly celebrated by name every spring.

National Recognition

Sampson was also recognized on a national basis. In December of 2020, the Deborah Sampson Act was signed into law to “eliminate barriers to care and services” faced by women veterans. It also provides for an office of women’s health in the Office of Veteran Affairs.

Though the current administration has taken actions to reverse certain parts of the Deborah Sampson Act, the Act itself remains intact because it is a federal law. Structural changes like privacy provisions and specialized medical staffing are still mandated. Recent executive orders dial back some training programs and reproductive health services.

Despite these changes, the woman who once had to completely erase her identity just to serve her country is now the face of the law ensuring modern service women should not have to be invisible again.

***

For another story about women during revolutionary times, see Sybil Ludington, 16, Helped Patriots. There are some who question the full accuracy of the story but it provides an excellent look at the people and the times.

For decades, Horn & Hardart’s Automats served as a singular social crossroads within the urban fabric of New York and Philadelphia. It was a regional restaurant business beloved by the locals who frequented it, yet mythologized by a national media that saw the restaurants as unique and powerful social equalizers. Any customer who had a nickel could come in and enjoy a cup of coffee or a piece of pie. 

After a humble start with a single lunchroom in Philadelphia in 1888, Joe Horn and Frank Hardart went on to build a chain of restaurants that featured quality food at affordable prices.  To Frank Hardart’s great pride, they also served a French drip coffee that Hardart had long dreamed of introducing nationwide.  Hardart’s New Orleans brew was a great improvement over the boiled coffee that was the staple of most American restaurants. 

How They Grew

Both Joe Horn and Frank Hardart dreamed of running their own restaurants. When they initially teamed up and began with a small lunchroom, they were perfectly happy. After that beginning, they envisioned success as a chain of Philadelphia lunchrooms for working people.

But then a call from a European restaurant equipment salesman changed everything.  The fellow was representing a company that made an ornate brass-trimmed wall of glass that partitioned a restaurant’s front of the house from the kitchen. The partition featured small windows showing actual dishes that could be purchased (a sandwich, pie, macaroni and cheese).

The system worked like a vending machine. The customer inserted a coin in the slot by the dish he or she wanted. The coin triggered the opening of the small door, and the customer could reach in and remove the plate and take to the table. Behind the scenes much work was involved with making this happen, but to a customer it seemed magical—automatic.  The restaurants became known as “The Automat.”

It was clever; it was unique; and it meant that (almost) no waiters were needed.

The memory of Horn & Hardart’s Automat lies in the great coffee, good comfort food, and the pseudo-technology of waiter-less restaurants. But the true wonder of the restaurant chain begins with the two men who founded it.

The Men: Joe Horn and Frank Hardart

Joe Horn (1861-1941) was born into a big family in Philadelphia. His father died while Joe was young, leaving the children’s mother to manage the family’s successful surgical supply business.

Catharine Horn wanted her sons to go into their own businesses, but her grounding was in manufacturing. When Joe asked his mother to stake him in a restaurant, she responded with a firm no. She wanted him focused on a business that seemed more reliable than food service. Instead, she sent him to California (and eventually Boston) to look for other ideas.

But Joe was deeply interested in food. No matter where he went, all he could talk about afterward were the fascinating restaurants he visited. Horn found his greatest inspiration at Thompson’s Spa in Boston. He admired how the simple restaurant served quality food to working people quickly—a model he aspired to replicate.

His mother finally believed him, giving him $1000 in seed money. He was elated, but he was wise. His travels showed him that there was a lot he still didn’t know—he didn’t want to make a mistake.

Elsewhere: Frank Hardart

About 1200 miles away in New Orleans, another fellow was wrestling with his plans for the future. Frank Hardart’s family emigrated from Bavaria when Frank was 8. They had no money, so when the ship docked in New Orleans, they stayed.

By the time he was 13, Frank Hardart (1850-1918) was washing dishes in a small restaurant in the French Quarter. Because the owner was rarely there, Frank also cooked, served, and closed up at night. It was a big job with little pay ($3 per week). Frank soon realized it was the best education he could have ever gotten.

Loved the Coffee

As Frank learned the business, he saw that New Orleans residents, from upper-class families to the working class, shared a deep devotion to their coffee. The city’s preferred method was the French drip, where hot water was poured over freshly ground beans held in a cloth bag. This produced a smooth, aromatic cup of coffee that stood in sharp contrast to the bitter “boiled coffee” common in the rest of America. That process often scorched the grounds or reused them until they were tasteless.

Hardart experimented constantly with different beans and grind levels, but he never strayed from the New Orleans method. By the time he was twenty, he had worked in several restaurants and gained a solid understanding of the industry, yet his true obsession remained the coffee. He was convinced that Americans would love this better coffee if they just knew about it.

Centennial Exposition

In the 19th century, people in Europe and the United States loved attending expositions (also called World’s Fairs) with displays from all over the world. For the public, it was an opportunity to learn about different countries at a time when few people could afford to travel. For vendors, it was the perfect showcase for their products.

Frank Hardart aspired to attend Philadelphia’s Centennial Exposition in 1876. The trip would be expensive for him, but he wanted to see whether he could make any connections for selling his drip coffee. 

Unfortunately, Hardart had no luck with his offering. He loved the energy of Philadelphia and was fascinated by all the items displayed at the exposition, but he went home with no buyers. 

After returning to New Orleans, Frank took another restaurant job and married. Soon, he and his wife were raising a young child. Despite these new roots, Frank convinced his wife that their future lay in Philadelphia, where he could finally realize his dream of introducing his superior coffee in a major city.

Philidelphia Restaurant World

By 1888, both future partners were living in Philadelphia, but they had not yet met.

 Frank Hardart arrived early in 1888 and took up residence in a rooming house. (His family followed a bit later.) Hardart took a job in a local restaurant, but he still wanted a way to introduce his coffee.

Joe Horn now had the financial backing of his mother, but he was cautious. He knew the stakes were high, and he didn’t want to goof up at this stage. Horn decided to advertise for a partner, specifying in the ad that the person he was looking for “should be someone who knew and loved the nuts and bolts of the restaurant business.”

To Horn’s disappointment, his advertisement received no response. Then two weeks later, an envelope arrived from a local rooming house. Inside was a note scrawled on the torn-off top of a sugar bag: “I’m your man!” It was signed F. Hardart.

While the presentation wasn’t exactly promising, it offered possibility. The two men met and agreed their goals could align. On the strength of a simple handshake, Joe Horn, 27, and Frank Hardart, 38, became partners.

Their first weeks together involved a street-by-street search of downtown Philadelphia. They found a tiny, 11-by-17-foot lunchroom at 39 South 13th Street, directly opposite Wanamaker’s Department Store. That would be their first location.

First Horn and Hardart Restaurant

On December 22, 1888, the first Horn & Hardart restaurant opened. There were no tables—just a long counter, and 15 stools.  The two men worked with pride. It was the beginning of their plan to serve good food for the working class.

On opening day, Joe Horn took the front of the restaurant while Frank Hardart was in the kitchen, cooking the food and preparing his special coffee.

Later in the week, people stopped in saying, “You have the best cup of coffee in town!” Soon enough, they had lines around the corner at lunchtime.

Adding new restaurants was the next priority.  They began picking up land or renting space in old buildings where they could establish new lunchrooms.

Sales Call Changes Plan

In the early 1900s, a European salesman heard about the duo that was setting up lunchrooms in Philadelphia and paid them a call. He wanted to introduce Joe Horn & Frank Hardart to a restaurant feature that was becoming popular in Europe.

The device was a mechanized partition that created a “waiter-less” restaurant. The mechanism wasn’t a machine in the modern sense—there were no motors or electrical belts, but it was interesting. The salesman presented them with drawings of the “machine,” which depicted a brass and nickel divider with many small compartments with glass doors. When a customer inserted a coin (or a token), the door popped open and a prepared dish could be removed.  While staff had to monitor and maintain the food in each slot, the customers could serve themselves. To restaurant patrons, it seemed instant and “automatic.”

Both Horn and Hardart were intrigued, but this would mean a huge investment. Frank Hardart worked out plans for a trip to Europe to see exactly how these things worked.

The European Version

The highly ornate devices used in Europe were beautiful and reduced staffing needs in the dining room, but for the kitchen staff, the work was about the same—only it had to be done faster. In the original European models, the glass compartments displayed only inedible samples rather than actual portions of food.

When a customer inserted the first coin, a bell rang to alert the kitchen staff as to the dish that needed to be readied. A few minutes later, the dish was available. Many kitchens were located on the floor below, so the food was brought up by a dumbwaiter, and the employee tending the back of the partition made it available to the customer.

As the system progressed, restaurant owners began to place simpler dishes (a cold sandwich or a piece of pie) directly into a compartment. That way customers could immediately access those selections. But in general, the European model was just a first step in what eventually was to become a more “automated” model.

Making the Evaluation

On his trip to Europe, Frank Hardart liked the new open feeling of the restaurant’s dining room. The primary person in the front of the house was a cashier who sat in a glass-enclosed box and made change for customers. No maitre’d was present.

Hardart saw that the customer-facing operation seemed smooth, but he noted how hard the employees in the kitchen worked to carry out the process. The staff had to keep close tabs on all the windowed compartments to assess which dishes were needed. Then the cooks needed to work quickly to live up to the idea that the food was available “automatically.” 

Overall, Hardart liked the concept and felt there were ways they could modify it for a Philadelphia restaurant. After consulting with Joe Horn, they decided to invest the $30,000 and have a unit sent to the United States.

The mechanized partitions were not easy to make, so after the order was placed Horn and Hardart knew it would take a full year for delivery. That gave them time to plan out what would be a new style of restaurant. 

Thinking Through Their Needs

Both Joe Horn and Frank Hardart believed in a refined atmosphere for regular customers. As they made their plans, they aspired to make their new restaurant elegant. They believed that high-quality food and beautiful architecture should belong to everyone, regardless of what was in any customer’s wallet.

Their lunchrooms had done well, so they could afford to furnish the restaurant nicely. They envisioned marble-topped tables and wooden chairs. Some tables would be eight-top for communal dining. Others would be for smaller group seatings.  

They also saw changes in the population in the city. Women were entering the work force as clerks, stenographers, and secretaries. They wanted a safe place to get a quick lunch that was efficient and made them feel respected. 

Their staffing needs would be different too. No maitre’d or waiters would be there, but every restaurant would need “nickel throwers”—women who could quickly knock off nickels from a roll of coins so that customers would quicky have in hand the coins they needed for the Automat.

The men saw from the European locations that black uniforms with gloves were the best choice. On both sides of the Atlantic, coins were dirty. Without gloves, the women’s hands were soon tinged with gray. 

As customers entered the restaurant and picked up their needed coins, they were free to sit wherever they wanted. A business executive who popped in for a bowl of soup might find himself at the same table as a secretary finishing a cup of coffee.  Everyone was equal.

Dispensing Drinks

The partners saw, too, that beverages also needed to be served from the vending wall. They knew from the start that they would need dedicated coin-operated dispensers for milk, tea, and coffee. By automating the drinks, they eliminated the need for waitstaff to weave through the dining room with heavy trays.

Initially the drink dispensers were simple and efficient. But on a scouting trip to Europe several years later, Joe Horn, became transfixed by the ornate fountains of Florence. He commissioned silver dolphin-head spouts for all the drink dispensers. These soon became an iconic part of the chain.

Waiting for Delivery

The partners were elated to hear that their partition was finally complete and en route to Liverpool to be sent by ship to America. However, their excitement was short-lived. Shortly after leaving port, the vessel carrying their order collided with another ship in a dense fog off the English coast and sank.

The entire shipment was lost to the bottom of the sea. Nothing was ever retrieved; While the equipment was insured, the disaster forced Horn and Hardart to wait another full year for a replacement set to be manufactured and shipped

The House that Nickels Built

Another year passed before Horn and Hardart could finally open their new restaurant.  Finally, the first Automat in the United States was established at 818 Chestnut Street in Philadelphia. 

When the first customers arrived, they were amazed by the operation. If they wanted a piece of pie or a sandwich, then they dropped their nickel in the appropriate slot and turned the knob. When the door opened, they retrieved their desired dish. 

With hot food, the process was a little different.  A bell signaled to the kitchen staff that a customer wanted a hot dish—beef stew or macaroni and cheese, for example. The cooks heated up the dish and then it up to dining floor via a dumbwaiter. 

It was “slow” fast food, but for Philadelphians in 1902, watching their meal ascend from the basement was the height of technological magic.

More Automats

With the success of the first Automat in Philadelphia, Horn & Hardart opened a second one on Juniper Street. A third and fourth soon followed. During this time, Hardart continued to order the “wall of windows” from Europe, but they were at work on a new plan with their chief engineer, John Fritsche.

Fritsche was deeply involved in setting up each restaurant, and soon he was willing to take on the task of building a made-to-order wall for Horn & Hardart. The new design was more American—less ornate. It was made from glass and chrome and looked sleeker, more in keeping with America. Instead of the more ornate and heavier European look, Fritcsche used Carrara glass (milk glass), polished brass, and eventually chrome. The look was bright and sanitary. It was a perfect look for the day as Americans were beginning to worry more about food and cleanliness.

He also made the mechanics more workable.   He patented a knob system that could be twisted by the customer and the door sprang open. The sandwich or piece of cake was easily within reach. He also added a rotating metal drum that made it “automatic” for food to be replaced. A worker on the other side of the wall could simply rotate a fresh plate into the empty slot. This allowed the “wall of windows” to stay constantly full, creating the illusion of a self-replenishing machine that never ran out of food.

Expanding to New York City

The pace of New York City with city dwellers traveling all over town and commuters making their way in and out of the train stations offered an environment that Horn and Hardart couldn’t resist. 

The first property they established was at 1557 Broadway (46^th Street) right in the heart of Times Square. As they undertook construction for this location, they spared no expense. They hired an artist to install a two-story stained glass surround to the main door, and the marble-topped tables and glass compartments trimmed with chrome were everything they could have dreamed of.   

With the opening of that restaurant in 1912, Horn & Hardart became a regional chain.

Continued Focus on Quality

While Frank Hardart maintained high coffee standards, Joe Horn felt the same way about the food. He wanted it to be consistently excellent throughout he restaurants in both cities.

Joe Horn assembled a 200-page manual to be used by all the restaurants. It covered everything from how to clean the coffee dispenser to how to prepare each dish. Instructions on how to monitor the food to be served was also important. Coffee dispensers were to be refreshed every 20 minutes and soup was never to be left uncovered. (If the soup had a lid, then the steam continued to recirculate and the salt and the flavoring remained consistent.)

With his eye on quality, Horn hired a master chef. Francis J. Bourdon had been trained at Cordon Bleu, but he was perfectly happy to have regular employment and to create good-tasting comfort food for working people.

Horn and Hardart Central Kitchen

Joe Horn also determined that each city needed a central kitchen from which to operate. If food was prepared in one place in large batches, the executives could check quality central location before the offerings were sent out to each location. The New York kitchen was at 50^th and 11^th Avenue, and Philadelphia’s central spot was near 10^th and Locust. 

Each day Horn and the top executives in Philadelphia and New York would gather at the “sample” table in their commissary kitchen. Each dish would be sampled, and if anything was even the slightest bit off, Horn was perfectly willing to trash the whole batch. After everything was approved, the containers of food were loaded on trucks and sent off to the various Automats.

Expansion Continued

By 1932, New York City had 42 Automat-cafeterias, and Philadelphia had 46 properties. About half of the restaurants in Philadelphia were lunchrooms. The rest were Automats.

As they watch the population needs change, Horn and Hardart also decided to sell prepared food from free standing retail stores. Their advertising slogan for these operations was “Less Work for Mother.”  She could heat up the food at home, but she didn’t have to prepare it.

Joe Horn Focused on Community

While Horn & Hardart worked their people hard, they also kept their eyes on what the staff needed. During the Depression, Horn & Hardart made certain that all staff members were fed at least one meal. 

Joe Horn had no family, so he treated the workers as extended family. He made sure they had disability insurance  and set up a loan program for people in need.  

How Horn and Hardart Became Part of Popular Culture

 How did a regional cafeteria concept become an enduring icon of American dining? The answer lies not in the “wall of windows,” but in the chain’s locations—they were in the heart of two important cities. Philadelphia was becoming the capital of the music business (Gamble and Huff and the Philly Sound), and New York was where the theater world thrived. 

While businesspeople, clerks, and secretaries were very much a part of the customer base, so were writers, composers, and actors. These people helped turn the Automat into a setting for a film, a scene for a Broadway show, or the subject of a song sung by the latest singer in vogue.  The most famous song specifically about the coffee (and pie) at the Automat is “Let’s Have Another Cup of Coffee,” written by the legendary Irving Berlin.

In the meantime, the New York Automats had Gene Kelly, Irving Berlin, Jimmy Stewart, Walter Winchell, Beverly Sills, Anne Bancroft, Dorothy Parker, Helen Gurley Brown, and Woody Allen coming in and out. Many weren’t luminaries at the time they first visited, but they rose to fame. As their careers progressed, they shared memories of the Automat, increasing its reputation and standing

To people in rural locations, the fact that movies were frequently set in the Automats, made it an iconic part of New York City. If you were coming in to see the Empire State Building, you just had to have a meal at the Automat.

Nearing the End

Automats remained popular into the 1960s, but the restaurants began to show their age as the popularity of true fast-food restaurants grew. At Horn & Hardart, the next generation of family stepped in with William Curtis, Joe Horn’s nephew, taking over.    

The new board saw that as office workers scurried for trains and buses to take them to the suburbs, the center-city business model was losing its restaurant magic.  The company tried setting up an Automat or two in shopping malls, but no one wanted comfort food if they could get a hamburger and fries.

Since Horn & Hardart had been taken public in 1960, there was added pressure to deliver shareholder value.  By the 1970s, Horn & Hardart prepared to pivot. They knew they had great value in real estate, so they secured franchise rights. They began gutting their own legendary Art Deco dining rooms to convert them into Burger Kings.

The business that was built on the personal integrity of Joe Horn and Frank Hardart was eventually dismantled. Horn & Hardart effectively stopped being a “restaurant business” and became a franchise holding company. 

In 1991, the very last Horn & Hardart Automat, located at 200 East 42nd Street in New York City, shut down, ending a nearly 90-year run of the regional chain. The ultimate irony of the Automat’s demise is that it wasn’t just defeated by modern fast food; it was consumed by it.

***

H and H Classic Baked Macaroni and Cheese

Horn & Hardart was known for its comfort food. What could be better than reprinting their recipe for Macaroni and Cheese?

(Yields 4 to 6 servings)

Ingredients:

• 1/2 lb. small elbow macaroni
• 1 1/2 Tbsp. unsalted butter (plus extra for greasing the baking dish)
• 1 1/2 Tbsp. all-purpose flour
• 1 1/2 cups whole milk
• 2 Tbsp. light cream (or half-and-half)
• 1 1/2 cups sharp cheddar cheese, freshly grated (avoid pre-shredded, as it won’t melt as smoothly)
• 1/2 cup canned diced or crushed tomatoes (drained slightly)
• 1/2 tsp. sugar
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• A dash of white pepper
• A dash of cayenne pepper

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 400°F and generously butter a shallow casserole or 8×8-inch baking dish.
2. Cook the elbow macaroni in salted water according to the package directions until just al dente. Drain well and set aside.
3. In a heavy-bottomed saucepan, melt the butter over low heat. Whisk in the flour, salt, white pepper, and cayenne. Cook for about 1 to 2 minutes, stirring constantly to form a smooth paste and eliminate the raw flour taste.
4. Gradually pour in the milk and light cream, whisking continuously. Raise the heat slightly to medium-low and bring it to a gentle simmer. Keep whisking for about 5 minutes until the sauce becomes thick, smooth, and coats the back of a spoon.
5. Remove the saucepan entirely from the heat. Add the grated cheddar cheese, stirring constantly until it is completely melted and the sauce is velvety.
6. In a small bowl, stir the sugar into the canned tomatoes. Gently fold this tomato mixture into your warm cheese sauce.
7. Fold the cooked macaroni into the cheese sauce, ensuring every noodle is perfectly coated. Pour the mixture into your prepared baking dish. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, or until the edges are bubbling aggressively and the top develops a beautiful golden-brown crust.

Why is Election Day always on a Tuesday? This is a question I am often asked when I address groups about our election day history. 

In 1845, Congress chose the first Tuesday after the first Monday in November because it was the most convenient day for 19th-century farmers. They traveled on horseback or with wagons, so a Tuesday gave them travel time without interfering with Sunday church services or Wednesday market days.

That’s the simple answer, but there is more complexity behind it. 

Allowing for the Electoral College Timing

When voters cast a ballot for president every four years, they are actually voting for a slate of electors who meet in each state to cast their votes for a particular candidate. Those votes are then sent to Congress where they are officially counted, and the incoming president is announced. (This constitutes the Electoral College.)

The first effort for some sort of schedule and system began in 1792. At that time, electors met on the first Wednesday in December. Federal law specified that each state could choose its own electors, so long as it was within a 34-day window before the date when the electors would meet and cast their ballots.

Why a 34-Day Window?

The founding fathers picked 34 days out of respect for the lifestyles of the citizenry. Many landowners owned farms, and so they wanted to be sure the harvest was in. They also needed to allow travel time for people to arrive in town to vote.

But it was chaotic. States held elections at all different times. Government officials worried that if one state voted earlier than the others, then word of their vote might affect how people in other states voted. (We have a similar issue today, but they used to think they could control it.)

For that reason, Congress passed the 1845 law specifying that elections should take place the “first Tuesday after the first Monday…” keeping the date within the 34 days prior to the December Electoral College meeting date.  (The election of 1848 was the first time this new schedule was applied.)

However, like everything else in this world, “things change.” In 1887 the date of the meeting of the Electoral College was moved to the second Monday in January. Despite this, the states have maintained the “first Tuesday after the first Monday.”

More Changes: Earlier Voting and Mail-In Voting

As election officials evaluated voter turnout and listened to consumer feedback, states began coming up with changes that were intended to increase voter participation. (The Constitution specifies that states are in charge of elections.)  Administrators noted that citizens are more likely to vote if they don’t have to take time off from work or stand in a long line to cast their ballots.

As a result, states have tried offering many options over the last 20 years. Some states switched to more easily available mail-in ballots; others have broadened the opportunities for in-person early voting. Voting by mail or a more spread out time in which to vote also relieves the strain on poll workers.

In 2000, only about 14 percent of voters cast their ballots before Tuesday; by 2022, that number hit50 percent.

As of 2026, 47 states (plus Washington, D.C.) offer some form of early in-person voting. Three states—Alabama, Mississippi, and New Hampshire—do not offer early voting for general voters though people with specific excuses can usually vote absentee.

In some areas, states are making mail-in voting easily available as a way to increase turnout.   In California, Colorado, Hawaii, Nevada, Oregon, Utah, Vermont, and Washington, every registered voter is automatically mailed a ballot before the election.

Federal Push for Voter ID and In-Person Voting

Though some communities worry about the safety of our voting system, studies show that statistically voter fraud is not really an issue. Studies have been conducted by major non-partisan groups including the Heritage Foundation (leans right) and the Brennan Center (leans left), and there is very little abuse of the system.

Despite the low statistics on fraud, some states are working on change. Florida has just passed a bill that requires voters to show IDs to register to vote. (This change occurs in 2027.)

Other states, including New Hampshire, Wyoming, and Louisiana, have passed laws requiring proof of citizenship to register.

Until recently, Utah offered universal mail-in voting, but they just amended that law. By 2029, voters may still vote by mail, but they will need to “opt-in” instead of receiving a ballot automatically.

Another troubling change has been put forward by Ohio. Their state legislature passed a law that strictly limits the time for returning mailed ballots. This means a foul-up by the postal system could cause voters ballots to not be registered in time. Election administrators hope more people will vote in person as a result.

And while the current federal government continues to push for more alterations to tighten up the voting system, changes cost money. Most states are currently taking a “wait and see” approach. What will happen with the court battles in states like Florida and Arizona? (In Arizona, they have been wrangling over proof-of-citizenship laws for 20 years.)

Because studies show that the system is sound, many states figure they might as well wait.

So as you can see, Americans may still honor the first Tuesday after the first Monday as Election Day, but they actually vote at a wide variety of times and places!

In the early 19th century, the American medical field was almost exclusively a men’s club. However, a few resilient women refused to accept the status quo, stepping forward as pioneers to carve out a new path.

Today, that landscape is shifting dramatically. While men currently account for 61% of active physicians in the U.S., women now make up the majority of medical students and residents. We are standing on the brink of a major demographic shift.

Below are the stories of six unsung women who challenged the establishment and moved the field of medicine forward.

Women Medical Leaders: Lydia Pinkham

Lydia Estes Pinkham (1819-1883) was one of the first people to take women’s health issues seriously.  She opened a closed door on the health matters that are unique to women. To help friends and neighbors, she created a vegetable tonic that helped with “women’s ills.” The family decided to package the product, and her sons soon took to the road to help place the tonic in stores.

Up until this time, women had no resources for health advice. Because Pinkham’s product became so popular, women wrote her for advice. Her responses were mostly common sense (eat well, exercise, and avoid the tight, restrictive clothing that was popular in the 19^th century). Eventually some of the advice was collected in pamphlets.

Though the compound has evolved to meet modern FDA standards, Lydia Pinkham’s Compound (now owned by Numark Brands) can still be found online and in major drug stores.

Clara Barton

Clara Barton (1821-1912) is well-known as the “Angel of the Battlefield”for her work during the Civil War. Later she brought the Red Cross to the U.S. and formed the American Red Cross.

Barton is less well-known for running the Office of Missing Soldiers. During the Civil War, the military had no official identification system. Sometimes soldiers caried a note in their pocket or wallet. Other times, their buddies buried them with something saying who they were.

Clara Barton set up an office in Washington, D.C. that operated from 1865-1867. She received 63,000 letters from families whose loved ones were missing, and she or her staff answered them all. They also managed to identify 22,000 soldiers.

Dr. Rebecca Crumpler

Dr. Rebecca Crumpler (1831-1895) was a Black woman who worked as a nurse for several white doctors in Massachusetts in the 1860s. She was so well-regarded by the men that they recommended her for admission the New England Female Medical College; she became the first African American to be admitted.  

Once she became a physician, she cared for Black patients in the Massachusetts area at a time when white doctors refused to treat people of color. At the end of her career, she wrote a home health guide for women about everything from nursing a newborn to managing cuts and wounds.  For the first time, households had a reliable reference as to how to manage various health issues.

Dorothy Harrison Eustis

Dorothy Harrison Eustis (1886-1946) was a dog breeder who became interested in training guide dogs for the blind.  While she was not a medical professional, her service to humanity was important to the health of people with impaired vision.

Eustis trained the first seeing eye dog brought to this country (1928). She went on to dedicate the rest of her life to breeding and training guide dogs. She and Morris Frank, the fellow who received the first dog she trained, created the school, The Seeing Eye. The school still operates today and continues to train and place dogs.

Dr. Virginia Apgar

Dr. Virginia Apgar (1909-1974) hoped to be a surgeon but she graduated from medical school during the Depression when men were taking all the available jobs.  She went into the relatively new field of anesthesiology. This placed her in delivery rooms where she had the opportunity to observe what happened with mothers and babies shortly after birth.

Apgar was alarmed that babies were only cursorily evaluated before being sent off to the hospital nursery. To solve the problem, she developed a method for assessing newborn health.  She originally called it the Newborn Scoring System, and it greatly changed the mortality rate for infants. The system is still used today but it is now referred to as the Apgar Score.  She then went on to run the March of Dimes.

Dr. Antonia Novello

Dr. Antonia Novello (1944–  ) grew up in Puerto Rico and became a physician. She is the first Latino to ever serve as U.S. Surgeon General. Appointed by President George H.W. Bush in 1990, she made many contributions to public health, among them working to improve medical care for women and minorities. 

Dr. Novello also targeted underage drinking and smoking, which involved a focus on cigarette advertising.  The cartoon image of Joe Camel was a particular target that she felt made smoking attractive to the young.

***

This information is based on my six-volume history of medicine as well as a speech I gave at Arizona State University for their Barrett Honors Program. If you’d like to see the full presentation given at ASU, click here:

Little-Known Women in Medicine Presentation with Kate Kelly.