Sarah Marshall was born into slavery in 1832. She married James Boone in New Bern, North Carolina, when she was fifteen. Sources are unclear how they obtained their freedom, but they were able to relocate to New Haven, Connecticut before the start of the Civil War. There, they raised eight children. She worked as a dressmaker. He laid brick until his death in the 1870s.

In her work, she saw the need for an ironing board that would aid in her care and maintenance of women’s dresses. Before the invention of the ironing board, women simply ironed clothes either on a board laid across the backs of two chairs or a table. At the age of 60, dressmaker Sarah Boone’s invention was created “to produce a cheap, simple, convenient and highly effective device, particularly adapted to be used in ironing the sleeves and bodies of ladies’ garments.”

While she did not create the ironing board, her device improved upon it by adding a padded surface and a smaller rounded end. It was also collapsible, so you can see how her improvements led to the ironing board in use today. The wording of the patent indicates that the invention had the potential to be adapted for men’s clothing. She received her patent in 1892 making her the second African-American woman to receive a patent.

She lived in New Haven not far from Yale University for the rest of her life and attended the Dixwell Avenue Congregational Church. She died in 1904 and is buried in Evergreen Cemetery. This PBS station did a very nice piece on her. You can view it here: https://www.pbs.org/video/engineering-behind-ironing-board-dqh4ly/.

A slave at fifteen. A patent holder at sixty. When you hear people harping on age being detrimental instead of an asset, tell them about Sarah Marshall Boone.

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Better To Marry Than to Burn

Freed Man seeking woman to partner in marriage for at least two years in the black township of Douglass, Texas. Must be willing and able to help establish a legacy. Marital relations as necessary. Love neither required nor sought.

Excerpt:

“Our children?” She swiveled in her seat. “You made no mention of wanting children, just marital relations as necessary. I understood that to mean intercourse.”

“I wrote I wanted to leave a legacy.”

“A legacy. Not a dynasty.”

“Legacy. Dynasty. Is there really so sharp a distinction?”

“To my mind there is. I understood you meant to affect future generations—endow schools, found churches, create civic associations. I didn’t realize that meant children. I agreed to having sex, not having children.”

 “Of course I want children.” His brows grew heavy as he frowned. “Doesn’t having sex lead to having children?”

“Not with the right precautions.”

His frown deepened. “Precautions?”

“There are many ways to prevent your seed from taking root, Mr. King.”

“I want children, Mrs. King.”

Her lips twisted and her brow furrowed, but she kept her silence.

“All right,” she said. “You can have children with any woman you like. I won’t stop you. I free you from any claim to fidelity.”

“Legacy—or dynasty if you will—means legitimacy. No bastard will carry my name, not when I have a wife to bear me children.”

“I see.”

Her tone signaled she didn’t.

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