The Story Of Artist Reuben H. Norcott Who Died As His Star Was Rising

It’s funny when you are reading an old newspaper and you come across a completely different story that leads down a rabbit hole.

Such is the case of Reuben H. Norcott.

While researching a story in the Chicago Daily Tribune from 1883 about another person, I saw Norcott’s story on the same page.

I quickly became immersed in Norcott’s story as told by an (unfortunately) unnamed New York correspondent for the Tribune.

Chicago Daily Tribune July 6, 1883;
THE METROPOLIS.
An Artist Who Made Good Portraits for Twenty-five Cents.
New York, July 6.—[Special Correspondence]

The most perfect realization of the ideal artist that I ever saw off the stage came into my office several months ago. He was tall, straight, slender, and graceful, His face was handsome and so delicate as to narrowly escape effeminacy; and yet there was a manliness in his bearing that fully redeemed all the girlishness. But there was no artificiality about his appearance. The aspect of an artist was not produced by long hair or picturesquely-unfashionable clothes.

He was not in the least “made up” for the character which he so adequately represented. His collar was of ordinary width, and clean. His suit was commonplace. He betrayed no poverty. The only distinctive and material mark of his profession (of course  he turned out to be an artist) was a portfolio which he carried under his arm. This he opened, displaying to me some portraits In  caricature. They were figures with big heads on little bodies, and were done in a sketchy but excellent manner.

“I am making these for 25 cents apiece,” he said.

His address, neither cringing nor defiant, was so different from the ordinary peddler or canvasser as to command attention aside from the attractiveness of his person and pictures. Besides, few of us are so free from solicitude about our looks that we do not embrace every casual opportunity for at  inspection of them. Against the temptation to glance into every unexpected mirror there is not much resistance. Here was a chance to have a reflection of one’s self caught and fixed. In this single building thirty-one persons accepted it. The artist worked all day without going out from under the roof except for his meals. I asked him If this was unusual success?

“Well, no,” he replied, as he deftly and rapidly used his pencil sketching me. “I am kept pretty busy. I have just spent a week in Wall street in the brokers’ offices, and they kept me at it full eight hours a day. They were always in such a hurry, too, that I sometimes turned off six or seven portraits an hour. In one day I made fifty-two.”

“Thirteen dollars’ worth,’ I said, like a true American, estimating his work by the money it produced.

But he was the artist all through, and quietly ignored my sordid suggestion.

“It was a hard day’s work,” he responded,  “and I don’t care to do many like it. It doesn’t give me a chance to look around and see things. I could go back to Wall street for a month, but they’d keep me working just that way. It was the same up at the Peekskill encampment, when the Seventh Regiment was there. I could hardly get a second by daylight to look at anything
except the man in uniform whom I was drawing.”

An illustrated book about Mexico happened to be on my desk, and that led him to tell me that he had wandered a year among the Mexicans. He talked entertainingly about them and their country, and I incited him to further disclosures of his life, learning that for a number of years he had roamed with his pencil and paper. He liked that kind of travel, he said, and would not think of settling down to regular employment.

A more attractive vagabond I never saw, nor any man more seemingly contented with his lot. But how little can we judge of such matters. This careless, talented, prosperous fellow, Reuben H. Norcott by name, committed suicide this week by drowning himself off the shore of Staten Island. Nobody knows why. Possibly be wished to get views of the other world.

Many newspapers reported Norcott’s death. Here is The New York Times error prone story for June 26 1883.

A YOUNG ARTIST’S SUICIDE.
REUBEN H. NORCOTT JUMPS FROM A STATEN ISLAND DOCK AND IS DROWNED.

Reuben H. Norcott, a sketch artist, and his wife, left their home at No. 127 Charlton-street, on
Sunday morning, and went to Clifton, Staten Island. They had lived in Clifton until about two
months ago, when they came to this City. Mr. Norcott was suffering from malaria, and went to Staten Island for relief.

He and his wife left McQuinlan’s hotel, where they were stopping, between 8 and 9 o’clock yesterday morning to post a letter which he had written to his mother, who remained in this City. They walked directly down to Lawlor’s ship-yard to enjoy the cool breeze, and Mr. Norcott told his wife that he would wait there while she went to the Poet Office with the letter.

She turned toward the shore road, and he walked toward the end of the wharf, upon reaching which be threw off his coat, vest, and hat and jumped into the water. He was carried some distance by the tide and then sank. Mrs. Norcott happened to look back after walking a short distance and not seeing her husband returned hurriedly only to find bis clothing lying
where he had thrown it down. The body was recovered later. Mr. Norcott was 31 years of age,
and leaves besides bis widow a boy 18 months old and a widowed mother. He was born in Portland, Me., and married two years and a half ago.

He was first confined to the house by malaria a week ago Sunday. He was in poor circumstances. and his sickness, the first In 15 years, preyed upon his mind so heavily that it kept him from work.

He had expected to go to Peekskill and sketch the State camp for an illustrated paper. He was delirious at night when the attack was most severe and he was undoubtedly insane when he sprang into the water. His mother was not informed of his fate until 8 o’clock last evening, and her grief was piteous. She immediately went to Clifton.

Delving into Norcott’s life was not an easy task. But some facts were obtainable through ancestry.com and newspapers.com.

The Family Of Reuben Norcott

Reubem’s parents, Richard Pain Norcott (1816 -1869) and Mary Nancy Lee DeAngelis (1823-1917) were married January 6, 1844. in Connecticut. A son, Henry Richard was born August 20, 1847 and died September 21 1849. Reuben was born October 12,1850 in Portland, CT, not Maine as mentioned in his Times obituary which is filled with errors. Portland is near Middletown and Meridan, CT. Another brother Dwight C. Norcott was born April 30, 1855.

It was unusual for the time, but Reuben and Dwight’s  parents divorced sometime after 1860.

Reuben and Dwight lived with their mother and as young men worked in the Meriden area. Reuben as an artist at the Meriden Britannia Company and at the Meridan Silver Plate Company. Brother Dwight worked at the Russell Carriage Company in Meridan. It was noted that Dwight was an excellent musician.

Dwight married Clara Woodworth on February 15, 1878. But she died just over two years later on February 29. 1880. Dwight next married Anna M Dunn on February 27, 1882 and they had one son Louis Henry Norcott December 15, 1884 . Dwight Norcott died September 11, 1901 from stomach troubles at Malden, MA. There are descendants of Henry Louis Norcott living today.

Reuben and Dwight’s mother Mary Norcott remarried on January 6, 1880 to John Mix of New Haven, CT.

The earliest mention of Reuben Norcott’s work as an artist was mentioned in the Meridan Daily Republican in 1874.

Reuben Norcott married Alexa Mossien of Philadelphia, PA on August 21, 1876 at  Trinity Episcopal Church in Easton PA. . Alexa was born in 1854 in Copenhagen, Denmark to a French father and Danish mother. Reuben and Alexa  were living in Philadelphia in 1880 listed as Luben and Alisa Norcott in census records . Their son Percy Norcott was born November 25, 1881 in Connecticut.

Reuben’s Drawing Skills

The June 26, 1883 New York Herald laid out many additional details about Reuben Norcott’s life.

In 1881 Norcott was working in Louisville, KY. He had been painting portraits and making crayon drawings there, but then decided to concentrate on pencil sketches.

When he first came to New York late in 1881 he drew a number of sketches for the illustrated papers and magazines and was a valuable man at public gatherings where it was necessary to catch perfect likenesses in a few seconds.

In 1882 he visited the state encampment at Peekskill where he sketched caricature likenesses of many of the officers and privates. His caricatures were described similarly to the Chicaago Daily Tribune piece with:

“The heads of his subjects were carefully drawn, but the bodies were dwarfed and made to indicate some mirth-provoking peculiarity.”

During the fall and winter Reuben Norcott drew the pictures of many members of the police force and fire department. He had become well known at City Hall and the Court House where nearly all the officials at one time or another became his subjects. Norcott rarely required more than two or three minutes to draw a likeness.

At the time of Reuben Norcott’s death he had been married seven years, not two and a half as the Times claimed. The suicide occurred on Sunday June 24 close to Noon, not 9. A.M..

Also Reuben’s body had not been found by June 26  as the Times inaccurately stated. Reuben’s body was recovered Thursday, June 28 when some boys bathing Vanderbilt’s Landing in Staten Island discovered the body.

The Aftermath

Reuben Norcott’s son Percy Norcott was born November 25, 1881. Growing up without a father, broken-hearted, Alexa and Percy stayed on in New York until at least 1890 according to the 1890 New York City Police census which lists on adjacent lines 8-year-old Percie and mother Lottie Norcott.

But eventually Alexa moved back to Pennsylvania, leaving Reuben’s mother Mary to raise Pecry in Connecticut. Alexa was living alone in Philadelphia by 1900.

Percy became a druggist (pharmacist) and married Lorena (Rena) Furniss November 26 1903. Alexa did not attend the wedding. Percy died April 5, 1932 and wife Rena died 1953 at age 77. They had no children.

For the last decade of her life Alexa Norcott was mysteriously living as Alice Wint and died at Philadelphia General Hospital on November 28, 1912 of acute pulmonary edema. On the census forms of 1900 and 1910 Alexa reports she never had any children, living or dead. Her death certificate has both Wint and Norcott as her name. She is buried in Arlington Cemetery in Drexel Hill, PA. There is no trace of what became of Reuben Norcott’s remains.

Reuben Norcott is not a “listed” artist . He is not in any artists database or book.

So where is Reuben Norcott’s art?

Despite apparently producing thousands of sketches and being published by newspapers and magazines, I was unable to locate even one of his works.

Possibly the end result of this story is that someone reading our story will look at an old family caricature they possess, look at the signature (if there is one) and recognize the workmanship as Reuben Norcott.

If that happens, maybe it will be shared here and we will at least be able to see this tragic and forgotten artist’s talent.