Between Mourning and Modernity

By the 1890s my edges had rounded with forty years of callers. Some mornings were quiet—a hush that meant bad news behind the door. Other days brought a parade: florists with green-stained fingers, dressmakers balancing hatboxes, physicians with black bags and serious faces. I learned to read the footsteps. Slow meant sorrow. Quick meant parties. Resolute meant news that had to be faced.

A New Century, A New Vision

In June 1893, after nearly four decades in the Roset family's orbit, the house was sold. The trustee transferred 1822 Pine Street to Howard Spencer, a gentleman of independent means, for $14,000—a substantial sum that reflects the property's prestige. The Philadelphia Inquirer noted the sale, one of the rare moments when this quiet address made the public record.

Howard Spencer's ownership was brief. He died on June 28, 1896, leaving his executors—Henry S. Pleasants and William McLean—to manage the estate. But the Spencer name would define the house's next great chapter through his daughter Agnes.

Agnes Spencer's Renaissance

On April 3, 1899, the deed passed to Agnes M. Spencer, Howard's daughter. She was young, wealthy, and ready to modernize. Almost immediately, she hired Duhring, Okie & Ziegler—rising stars among Philadelphia's architects—to undertake what the newspapers called 'alterations and additions' to the dwelling.

The firm was known for tasteful updates that honored existing architecture while bringing houses into the modern age. Their work at 1822 Pine Street, documented in both the Philadelphia Inquirer and the Philadelphia Times, represented a turn-of-century refresh: upgraded plumbing and gas lighting, decorative refinishing, and a clearer separation between the public rooms and private quarters.

The project cost approximately $6,000—equivalent to well over $200,000 today—suggesting substantial work rather than superficial updates. Family memory speaks of a rear extension and a back service stair, though we await permit records to confirm the exact scope. What we can prove is the commission itself: client, address, architects, and date, printed in the papers of the time.

Society Returns

With the renovations complete, the house resumed its role as a stage for Philadelphia society. The Philadelphia Times reported in winter 1901 that 'Mrs. Graham Spencer has closed her country house, at Kaolin, Chester county, and returned to 1822 Pine street for the winter'—the classic rhythm of summer in the country, winter in town, that defined Rittenhouse Square life.

That same autumn, the parlors hosted joy after years of estate administration and construction. November 1901 brought a wedding breakfast for the Rolin-Plumb nuptials, filling the renovated rooms with celebration. The house had emerged from its chrysalis, ready for a new century.

The Davis Family Arrives

By 1904, new names appeared at the address. The Philadelphia Inquirer announced 'At Home' days for 'Mrs. Henry C. Davis and the Misses Davis, of 1822 Pine street'—the choreographed afternoons when society ladies received callers. These were the people who would transform the house's purpose once again, from society salon to suffrage headquarters.

The following year brought one last documented improvement: a fireplace installation by J.N. Long for $130. That hearth still warms gatherings today—the same firebox where Mrs. Davis's guests warmed their hands while discussing politics and art, where suffragettes would soon warm their resolve.