End (Table) Of The Road For Industrial Americana

Andrea Porter, an honors graduate from Fashion Institute of Technology, spent over 14 years working in the textile business until one day she found herself in need of a new coffee table. Unhappy with the current options available in today’s commercial design world, she decided to look into the past and created a coffee table out of an old rusted gear she’d previously found at a flea market. When the newly repurposed piece came home from the local welder and friends began to express interest in having their own, gears began to turn in Porter’s mind… Now, with the help of her sister, Ameri Spurgin, Porter cranks out repurposed items from the past into new functional pieces of home decor via Arms and Barnes.

The company’s name honors the sisters’ childhood nicknames while the company itself honors the American past in (re)purpose and motto, “Finding the beauty and potential in things forgotten.”

Old industrial, factory and farming items (such as iron fence pieces, old gears, thrasher wheels), architectural pieces (like scrolled window grates, register vents, fire place covers) and even more domesticated pieces (cast iron cookware and the wooden harness of weaving looms, for example) now find themselves converted into practical, conversational, chic tables for your home.

Joel Hester does something similar with scrapyard metal.

HGTV’s Cash & Cari

When I first heard about HGTV’s Cash and Cari, I got a little excited thinking this show might focus more on decorative collectibles, plus offer a splash of do-it-yourself (DIY) home decor creativity. While the show has all that potential, I really was disappointed.

Cash and Cari (Cari is not pronounced like “carry,” but like “car” with an “e” on the end, so it’s not quite the pun your eyes expect) follows the work of “estate sale guru” Cari Cucksey of Michigan’s RePurpose Estate Services.

If you like watching how to set up an estate or rummage sale, then maybe you’ll like this. However, for me, the show lost points when it dropped a standard part of the collectible shows format: the visit with the expert or in depth look at a few items. I realize this part of the show’s time was given to the DIY component — and that was something I was looking forward to; but in this particular episode this segment infuriated me.

In this debut episode, Cari purchases an older used bench for $40 and has a staff member give it “an impressive makeover.” The makeover consisted of repainting the bench, removing the older upholstered seat, and replacing it with new fabric — sewing a decorative throw pillow to match. However, the new “upholstery” job was terrible.

The fabric was staple-gunned in place and the staples hidden from view by hot-glue-gunning some sort of open-weave rick-rack lace over it. Use of a glue gun on the seat of a bench in place is anything but quality. (The dried glue will be lumpy, visible, and likely to peel away if the object has any use whatsoever ; it’s not appropriate for furniture or seating or anything besides the purely decorative.) Anything but quality and certainly not worth, in my opinion, the $300 they proposed to sell it for. Normally I don’t like to argue the price someone gets for something; different location alone can create marked price differentials. But this bench was really a shoddy DIY job and not fit for an audience of antiques and vintage collectibles fans.

Collectors of antiques are looking for quality.

Plus, the item was to be sold at “the shop,” and it kind of makes you wonder how the bench will be presented there… As an antique or vintage piece, or as a quickly made home decor piece? It’s the sort of thing an experienced collector wouldn’t be fooled by, but it’s also the sort of thing, like reproductions offered for sale, that most collectors want to know are properly represented so that no one feels tricked. No mention of this — after such a cheap makeover, weakens Cari’s credibility.

Yes, I watch a lott of the collectibles shows, and I did consider how potential “burn out” might be coloring my thoughts about Cash and Cari; but I don’t think that’s it (see my post about Oddities).

Where Cash and Cari suffers is a lack of focus on what makes the other shows great (personalities and drama of “cast,” information segments, &/or presentation of values of items) and a complete fumbling of the potentially fabulous DIY segment.

In trying to be kind, I wished HGTV had, as many of the other networks have, given us more than one episode to watch so that I could see if another episode could make me a fan… But then I realized HGTV thought this episode was strong enough to be the series lean-in and if that was their best foot forward, I don’t think I’ll watch another episode.

Collections In Old Shoeboxes

Shoebox

I just put an empty shoebox in my son’s room. Why? Because every kid should have empy shoeboxes to fill.

I remember as a kid all the services shoeboxes had.

Some held saved greeting cards, playing cards and jokers, and other bits of ephemera grown-ups needed not to see when they came to supervise room cleaning.

Other boxes held Barbie’s clothes — especially those I made out of hankies and safety pins and whatnot and so could not easily be stored on the hangers in her houses.

My little plastic horses didn’t have fancy play or storage sets, so shoeboxes took care of those needs.

And once I found the coolest blue metallic beetle-bug outside and I kept it in the shoebox under my bed, sorry mom & dad. (Don’t worry; he didn’t get out in the house. He died in there and that made me so sad that from then on I only played with such things on the screened-in sun porch… I bet you remember my inchworm “habitats” — and that each and every inchworm went back outside after I played with them. Lesson of the shoebox bug learned.)

My point is that each shoebox was like a treasure chest, full of a child’s idea of booty. Inside each cardboard container, secrets were kept, preserved, and most important of all — the prizes remained protected from the prying eyes of parents and siblings alike (any of which had their own motives for plundering).

Shoeboxes contained, preserved, and, because they were so innocuously portable, even displayed the tangible relics of our soles souls. Filling your father’s empty shoeboxes was like the antidote for “filling your father’s shoes.” Each box was all about you.

I’ll confess that I’ve saved one such shoebox collection of my own…

Childhood Shoebox Collection

It’s not the actual same shoebox I used as a child.  But as I down-sized the boxes through the years, these are the bits and bobs I saved… My old playing card jokers;  two of my most beloved plastic toy horses , Sugar and Flame; Sugar’s saddle and hitching post; a small horse head I made in art class; and a few other assorted pieces of ephemera.  And when I found myself with such a little bit to save, I grabbed the nearest shoebox and I knew my childhood pieces had found their home. (I swear Flame and Sugar whinnied in appreciation!)

My adult self knows that cardboard boxes aren’t the best long term storage solution options for most things aged and fragile, especially paper. But the amazing thing about shoeboxes is their ability to hold, preserve and maintain the memories and all the joyful magic of childhood inside them — no matter how many years pass.

I strongly encourage you to save your shoeboxes. Give them to the children in your lives. And, if you have not already done so, be sure to save a few for yourself.

Make a time capsule of your childhood, start a new secret collection, recapture the joy of collecting in a shoebox.

Discover(y) The Oddities

You might just think I’d be tired of watching and reviewing all these antique and collectible TV shows — so tired of them, in fact, that I’d be dreading yet one more. But if that’s what you were thinking, you’d be wrong; Discovery Channel’s Oddities has become a favorite “can’t miss” in terms of my television viewing.

On Oddities, we watch the on-goings of the owners (Evan Michelson and Mike Zohn) and staff (Ryan Matthew and Ersan, intern aka The Cerd) of Obscura Antiques and Oddities, a shop located on New York City’s East Village, dedicated to “the weird world of strange and extraordinary science artifacts.” Here you’ll find the more eclectic and shall we say less mainstream antiques and collectibles, such as antique medical devices, anatomical art, sideshow relic taxidermy.

Some of my personal highlights:

An ancient Egyptian mummy hand — which is notable alone for the one time in one of these shows I’ve seen the expert put on gloves. Plus, we hear from that museum professional that his coworker actually has a taste test for authenticating mummies; too bad she wasn’t around that day. But even if it is authentic, is it legal to sell? …Oh, now that’s another interesting turn.

Rachel Betty Case brought her “human ivory” artwork — made from human fingernails (well, and toenails, and pet nail clippings); which I found fascinatingly beautiful.

A guy who wants a bug to scare his wife with; another man who wants the perfect creepy dental gift for his retiring dentist friend.

I’m not sure I even want a two-headed cow or four-footed chicken taxidermy piece… But if I did, I now know better how to tell if such a thing is due to an animal with an authentic genetic defect and not some fake.

And Laura Flook, embalmer turned model come fashion designer. Yup, you read that right. Flook is at Obscura looking for a mortuary table for her fashion shoots. As Ryan says, “One interesting thing about Laura is her devotion to art whether it’s a mortician, model or a clothing designer.” So devoted, yet this designer of clothing inspired by Victorian-era mourning wear is dreamily flabbergasted when she returns to Obscura in another episode to discover corsets. Admittedly, one of the medical corsets is not the normal corsetry that springs to mind; but she buys one that I’ve got in my own collection. This Flook is fascinating to me… The way she talks, everything. I hope she returns in future episodes.

Along the way there are also various circus performers (sword swallower, escape artist, etc.), theatre folk (an unusual playwright, a performer who uses blood to increase the drama), and some more mainstream celebrities (not unusual given the name dropping at the Discovery Channel’s site).

Oh, and yeah, there are the collectibles too. From horrifying medical implements to medical quackery devices, from odd little vintage toys and masks to coffins (cradle to grave, I tell you!), and other assorted (or is that a-sordid?) pieces of history.

Another great feature of this show is it’s ability to leave the shop.  It’s because of that we not only see the great lengths the staff goes to in order to procure an object for a collector, but we see the fabulously odd collections of others.  That’s something missing from most of these shows.

But with this Oddities, you definitely come for the surprises. Even if you come for the antiques and collectibles, you’ll find your intrigued by a lot more; and that’s a surprise too, right?

Because the items themselves are more dramatic, the majority of clientele themselves more interesting, there’s no need for the cast to be fraught with personality dramas, or for the show to bilk the monetary value. (Honestly, this is one area where the prices seem too low to me; the items are that, well, obscure!) So while this is part of the same genre of collectibles programming, it’s not quite the same trite formula. And it’s done absolutely right.

Oddities can be seen on Thursdays at 10:30 p.m. E/P on the Discovery Channel and also on its sister channel, the Science Channel, Wednesdays at 9 & 9:30 PM E/P. Join me in watching it — at least once!

The Mentor Magazine

The Mentor magazine is an obscure vintage magazine for several reasons: The creator’s intentions, its various incarnations, and rather shoddy historical record (it is not listed in the National Union Catalogue of Periodicals).

The publication begins with William David Moffat. Moffat attended Princeton; while in school he has several works published, mostly sports stories for boys under the name William D. Moffat. Upon his graduation in 1884, he went to work for Scribner’s where he’d stay for two decades, working his way up from sales, to the education department and finally the business manager for The Book Buyer and Scribner’s Magazine. In 1905 he leaves Scribner to form his own publishing house, Moffat, Yard & Company, with fellow Princeton alum Robert S. Yard. By June of 1912, Yard was no longer active in the company, and Moffat, Yard & Co. announced it was moving in to share the offices of another publishing house, John Lane Company. While this was said not to be a true merger, but rather a shared management and expenses sort of a thing, it is at this time that Moffat begins The Mentor Association.

The Mentor Association is rather like Moffat’s attempt at a think tank. He gathers men who were specialists in their area and, with himself as editor, they proceed to share their information in a publication so that persons might “learn one thing every day.” This publication was The Mentor. Here’s how the association and publication were described (taken from The Mentor, Volume I, Number 38, November 3, 1913):

The purpose of The Mentor Association is to give people, in an interesting and attractive way, the information in various fields of knowledge that they all want and ought to have. The information is imparted by interesting reading matter, prepared under the direction of leading authors, and by beautiful pictures, produced by the most highly perfected modern processes.

The object of The Mentor Association is to enable people to acquire useful knowledge without effort, so that they may come easily and agreeably to know the world s great men and women, the great achievements, and the permanently interesting things in art, literature, science, history, nature and travel.

…We want The Mentor to be regarded as a companion. It has often been said that books are friends. We give you in The Mentor the good things out of many books, and in a form that is easy to read and that taxes you little for time. A library is a valuable thing to have if you know how to use it. But there are not many people who know how to use a library. If you are one of those who don t know, it would certainly be worth your while to have a friend who could take from a large library just what you want to know and give it to you in a pleasant way. The Mentor can be such a friend to you.

And since the word “library” has been used, let us follow that just a bit further. The Mentor may well become yourself in library form. Does that statement seem odd? Then let us put it this way: The Mentor is a cumulative library for you, each day, each week a library that grows and develops as you grow and develop a library that has in it just the things that you want to know and ought to know and nothing else. Day by day and week by week you add with each number of The Mentor something to your mental growth. You add it as you add to your stature by healthy development; and the knowledge that you acquire in this natural, agreeable way becomes a permanent possession. You gather weekly what you want to know, and you have it in an attractive, convenient form. It be comes thus, in every sense, your library, containing the varied things that you know. And you have its information and its beautiful pictures always ready to hand to refer to and to refresh your mind.

So in time your assembled numbers of The Mentor will represent in printed and pictorial form the fullness of your own knowledge.

It is also in this issue, that The Mentor gets a new look:

We have chosen this cover after a number of experiments. It has not been an easy matter to settle. The Mentor, as we have stated more than once, is not simply a magazine. It does not call for the usual magazine cover treatment. What we have always wanted and have always sought for from the beginning has been a cover that would express, in the features of its design, the quality of the publication. In the endeavor to make clear by dignified design the educational value and importance of The Mentor, the tendency would be to lead on to academic severity and that we desire least of all. On the other hand, it would be manifestly inappropriate to wear a coat of many colors. The position of The Mentor in the field of publication is peculiar its interest unique. How best could its character be expressed in decorative design?

We believe that Mr. Edwards has given us in the present cover a fitting expression of the character of The Mentor. It is unusual in its lines that is, for a periodical. It has the quality of a fine book cover design at least so we think. It will, we believe, invite readers of taste and intelligence to look inside The Mentor, and as experience has taught us, an introduction
to The Mentor usually leads on to continued acquaintance.

Originally The Mentor was a weekly, published by the Associated Newspaper School, Inc. (New York City) and hardly more than a pamphlet or folio; a dozen or so pages with “exquisite intaglio gravures” loose inside. (The fact that these images were not bound in the publication means issues are often found incomplete.) Each slim issue was on a specific theme and there were tie-ins with newspapers, adding to The Mentor‘s educational publication feel.

From a practical standpoint, the narrow focus of each theme likely complicated or limited the periodical’s circulation numbers. It’s one thing to say your publication is “an institution of learning established for the development of a popular interest in art, literature, science, history, nature, and travel,” but with such issue-specific themes, readers may have done what collectors who spot copies do today: Pending the theme, either fell in love or turned up their noses and eschewed the entire publication.

(Most collectors seem to covet The Mentor on an issue by issue basis; seeking out the single issue the theme of which suits their collecting interest, or coveting the January 1929 issue on Famous Collectors & Collecting.)

Perhaps this is why in its second year, The Mentor ceases weekly publication and lowers costs by being published only twice a month.(Subscription fees change from $5 to $3 a year.) It still retains the single theme per issue, but perhaps the frequency of publication change is also seen as a better way to market itself. It is also at this time that the publisher is changed from Associated Newspaper School to The Mentor Association.

By mid-1919 wartime inflation would forced the price of subscriptions to The Mentor to increase to $4 per year — but bigger changes were coming.

It was during this time that The Mentor becomes a monthly and introduces more color on the covers.

In the October 1920 issue, the magazine increased the number of pages to 40 and, finally, the six gravure pictures were bound into the center of the magazine, becoming numbered pages in each issue. It is also at this time that The Mentor softens its strict each-issue-devoted-to-a-theme stance, allowing the last five pages of each issue to free of the main topic.

In 1921, The Mentor is purchased by Crowell Publishing Co. with W. D. Moffat remaining on as editor. There are no noted changes until the August 1922 issue’s page size increase. (By the April 1927 issue, the page size of The Mentor would grow to the same size as that time’s Atlantic Monthly.)

In 1929, the 63 year old Moffat is ready to retire as editor of The Mentor. It is in this news bit from Time magazine (August 19, 1929) announcing the change, that we get more insight into the Moffat’s intentions and legacy:

Editor Moffat never aimed at mass-circulation. Even when mass-circularizing Crowell Publishing Co. (American Magazine, Colliers, Woman’s Home Companion) bought The Mentor in 1920, it did not commercialize original Mentor ideals, but retained Editor Moffat, continued to please the 50,000, the 70,000, finally the 100,000 who liked The Mentor for what it was.

And now is when the magazine changes significantly; as reported in that same Time article:

Starting with the next (September) issue, The Mentor will no longer have a theme-subject. Instead there will be articles on many a different topic, by such authors as Walter Davenport, W. E. Woodward, Margaret Widdemer, Will Durant. There will be seven four-color pages in place of rotogravure; a cover in the “modern manner”; a history of tennis by William Tatem Tilden, 2nd; a history of dog fashions by Albert Payson Terhune.

To make The Mentor youthful, Crowell Publishing Co. has put a youthful man in the editorship, Hugh Anthony Leamy, just past 30, round-faced, amiable, onetime New York Sun reporter, for the last three years an associate editor of Collier’s. About The Mentor, what its plans are, he will talk with hopeful enthusiasm. About new Editor Leamy he is reticent. “I’m still an untried man at this job,” he explains. “But The Mentor? Well, you know, we thought it best to go through with a big change all at once to keep it up with the changing times. . . . You might call the new Mentor a nonfiction, up-to-date magazine for people who want to learn about various matters, but who want to be amused at the same time—not bored.”

Now The Mentor is printed in the style of that period’s Vanity Fair; from the slick paper and illustrative appearance to the “modern” and “amusing” content, including fiction.

But the dumbing-down and dressing-up didn’t help circulation any; as Time reported in April 21, 1930:

Crowell Publishing Co. employes found an announcement on their bulletin board one morning last week, which read: “The Company has sold The Mentor to the World Traveler Magazine Corp. — George R. Martin, publisher.† They will assume the publishing of The Mentor, beginning with the June 1930 issue. We have become convinced that The Mentor will have a much better opportunity if handled by a publisher equipped to take care of the smaller units. Here we are fully and thoroughly geared up to handle large units and it has become difficult to give The Mentor the necessary small unit attention. We feel that Mr. Martin and his organization are equipped to continue The Mentor successfully.”

…Although the magazine’s circulation reached 85,000, it became apparent that it would never pull in harness with its whopping big Crowell team-mates—Woman’s Home Companion, Collier’s, The Country Home (onetime Farm & Fireside), The American Magazine — whose combined circulation is over 8,500,000.

To World Traveler, the Mentor went lock, stock & barrel—with the exception of Editor Leamy.

…Publisher Martin contemplates fusing his old magazine with his new, placing the amalgam under the direction of World Traveler’s Editor Charles P. Norcross, now junketing in the Orient. Because World Traveler has about one-fourth of its stablemate’s distribution, and because when two magazines combine one inevitably swallows the other, publishers guessed that the ever-mutating Mentor would be the one to endure.

† Not to be confused with George Martin, one-time (1918—29) editor of Crowell’s Farm & Fireside.

The publications were combined as The Mentor — World Traveller and given a new look, the pages enlarged to slightly larger than the size of Life magazine. But contrary to what the publishers in that 1930 Time magazine article said, The Mentor doesn’t seem to be the one to have endured. Nor did the The Mentor — World Traveller.

According to Paul W. Healy in The Ecphorizer:

As an indication that the end was not far off, the Reader’s Guide to Periodical Literature stopped indexing the magazine in December 1930. My last issue is January 1931; I have reason to believe it was the last published.

If you have anything to add to The Mentor story, please let us know!

Image Credits:

First issue of The Mentor magazine (Volume 1, Number 1, February 17, 1913) with six gravures via 2010lilbolharsky.

Photo of set of three vintage Mentor issues and April 1930 cover via mom-and-me-1971.

Collecting Children’s Books: Lessons In Rabbit & Skunk

Rabbit and Skunk and the Scary Rock, by Carla Stevens (illustrations by Robert Kraus) is one of my fondest childhood reading memories. Of course, I had completely forgotten about this book until I spotted it at one of those church rummage sales where you pay $2 for whatever you can fit into a paper bag. But the instant I saw that cover, it all flooded back — and I neatly snatched it up and put it in my bag.

I was so excited by the find that I was shocked to discover that neither hubby nor the kids had ever heard of what I consider to be a childhood classic! Apparently it’s been out of print for a number of years now. *sigh* (But you can still find cheap copies at at eBay.)

Remembering reading about Rabbit and Skunk and their fright over the scary talking rock is far more delicious than reading it now; sometimes you really can’t go home again. *deep sigh*

But then collecting children’s books isn’t about reading and rereading them — at least not alone by yourself. No, collecting children’s books is about literally holding-on to those precious literary memories, about the tangible connection to those fragile and magical moments of those early joys of reading… We get to hold in our hands again those things we still hold dear in our hearts.

Rabbit and Skunk and the Scary Rock, for those unfamiliar, was published by Scholastic Book Services, so it was a very early reading experience for me. I remember reading and rereading it, the repetition more than that soothing familiarity children seek, but a mastery of the adventure — with each read I could take myself out there and bring myself back again. All by myself! No longer was I held hostage to the schedules and preferences of others; no longer was I stuck to the confines of my room, my house, my world — I could go anywhere, do anything!

And, just as Rabbit and Skunk discovered, big scary things aren’t always what they seem. You just have to muddle through to the end, that’s all.

Thinking of this reminded me of another childhood favorite: The Monster at the End of this Book.

By the time this book came out, I was way past both Sesame Street and Little Golden Books — but I had younger cousins, and they love-loveloved it when I read them the story of silly Grover’s fear of a monster. How could he be afraid of a monster at the end of the book when (spoiler alert!) he is, of course, a monster himself!

One of the reasons I enjoyed reading this book over and over to my younger cousins was because of its similarity to Rabbit and Skunk’s adventure. There’s the silliness, of course, but primarily the books address fear. My understanding of the concept of fear was, as a young reader, closely tied to the fear of reaching the end. The anxiety of “What would they find?!” was sort of a high… And the resolution rather a come-down. Not specifically because it wasn’t terrifying enough or was anti-climactic in anyway, but because all that good stuff was at an end. (In some ways, that hasn’t changed; I still loath for a good book to end.)

I was then left with a choice, do I read it again or select another adventure? (Never was the choice not to read.) What if the new adventure isn’t as good as the old one? …But, if I read the old one again, what might I be missing? Staying in the middle of a great read, looking forward to the miles to go, is always my favorite place to be.

This confusing pull surrounding endings — even those with new beginnings — is what I find myself struggling with each New Year’s Eve.  If I might be allowed a cynical moment here, I suspect most of us feel that way and that’s why drinking alcohol and partying have become de rigueur; we just are too uncomfortable with “Goodbye.” And facing a “Hello,” even after a bad year, is to wonder if we wouldn’t really be better off sticking with the old one…

But, as this year is about to end, I must remind myself of Rabbit, Skunk, Grover, and reading books taught me. Be brave. Big scary things aren’t always what they seem. Whatever you’re going through, it’s better when you have a friend to share it with. You just have to muddle through to the end, that’s all. And then look forward to the next adventure.

After all, you can’t prevent this New Year from arriving anymore than Grover could prevent the end of the book. So you might as well embrace it. Happy New Year, one and all!

Antique Milton Bradley Dollhouse Ad

This antique Milton Bradley ad was posted in the LiveJournal Vintage Ads Community with simply the date of December 1891; no publication was cited.  I’m fascinated by the concept of another cardboard dollhouse — this one to be played with pictures of furnishings and people cut from catalog pages, not with miniatures and dolls.

A Pair Of Rare Vintage Republican Pinback Buttons

As a (small) dealer at Antiques On Broadway, I have the opportunity to see items as they come in or are waiting to be priced; that’s how I came to discover these funky vintage political pinback buttons.

(I apologize for the poor quality of the photos; I snapped them quickly with my cell.)

The first vintage pin caught my eye with its  simple line drawing of a presumably Republican elephant on a brown background.

I gather the “Trunks up!” phrase is some sort of rally cry.

Elephants with the trunks turned up are supposed to be good luck, as opposed to elephants with the trunks pointing down; many collectors of elephants (figurines, etc.; not the actual animals!) will only collect them with the trunks up. However, I’ve met other collectors who dare to do the opposite. And many collectors who don’t care one way or another.

The second vintage pinback button was far less iconic in its simplicity — but far more intriguing…

A white flower shape on a blue background with “Organized Housewives For Forsythe” printed in the same shade of blue. It begged me to do a little research. (Oh how I love such invitations!)

While I did learn a lot more about political women’s organizations and housewives and social issues in general, the Organized Housewives For Forsythe was a needle in a rich historical haystack.

The only concrete thing I could find was this political advertisement, published in the Austin Daily Herald on November 1, 1966:

In 1966 Walter Mondale would defeat Republican candidate Robert A. Forsythe and retain his Minnesota Senate seat — but it wasn’t with the help of the Organized Housewives.

If you know more about this group, or these pinbacks, please share by leaving a comment.

Lessons In Cold Paint From The Pirate Duck

I purchased this vintage wall pocket awhile ago simply for it’s whimsy; what’s not to love about a pirate duck?


It simply has to ‘quack’ you up — or you’ll be forced to walk the plank, arr!

It’s a vintage ceramic piece, made in Japan, rather nicely painted under the glaze with additional spots of cold paint on the bow and hat.

“Cold paint” refers to paint which has been applied after the pottery piece has been both glazed and fired. Because this painting is done after firing and is not fired (heated) itself it is called “cold paint,” “cold painted,” or “cold painting.” And because cold painting was done to save money, the results were not only less expensive but cheap in terms of quality: Paint applied over a glaze easily slides or washes off.

However, as this was such a common manufacturing method, most collectors expect such wear and are more accepting of such missing paint than they are of chips, quacks cracks — or puns.

In fact, while vintage cold painted ceramic and pottery pieces with the majority or all of the paint intact will sell for much higher prices, if the cold paint looks too good to be true, it could be a sign that the piece may be a repro (reproduction) and not vintage at all.

So the missing paint on this little vintage ducky wallpocket may just be the proof that it is great pirate booty. *wink*

…Now if someone could just tell me what the heck I’m supposed to put in a wallpocket — that won’t risk damages to the china.

UPDATE: Give the down-sized space issues while we restore the old house, I’ve listed this cute duckling pirate for sale at Etsy.

Pencil Crayons

People don’t always know what I mean when I talk about pencil crayons. I thought that was a pretty universal term for them. Someone assumed I was talking about regular crayons, wax crayons. But, pencil crayons are coloured pencils, not made out of wax.

I’ve had pencil crayons since I was a kid. We did arts and crafts and drawing and at times I illustrated my diary. (Not too often as I thought my drawings were pretty sad, even at the amateur level).

I always had a set of at least 12 colours which went to school with me. We made crafts for holidays at home and the pencil crayons would come out along with the scissors and glue, an arts and crafts staple, always in supply. I would keep mine in a pretty pencil case to keep them from being broken or having the points chipped. I also kept my handy pencil sharpener there cause you had to be ready for the odd broken tip. Sometimes I got especially creative and used the side of a pencil, so it needed extra sharpening to get it long to cover more space.

There are endless crafts and memories created with pencil crayons. I still have them around. I use them to make illustrations even now. I still don’t think highly of my drawing skills but I like trying, learning more as I go.

What do you remember about family and holidays, arts and crafts when you see a set of pencil crayons? When did you last use coloured pencils? Maybe you should treat yourself to a new set, explore some shapes, lines and colours and have fun like a kid again.

Merry Martha Sleeper Jewelry & Fashions

At first I was going to post this photo of Clara Bow posing by a Christmas tree because of the fabulous decorations and stuffed toys; but once I saw this photo of Martha Sleeper I was equally smitten!

Martha Sleeper was a silent film star in the 1920s and, in the 1940s, a Broadway actress. But collectors may know her best as a jewelry designer.

Her whimsical designs in Bakelite, wood and metal were mass-produced by the New England Novelty Company. (Decades later, in the 1970s, Andy Warhol would find and adore her creations, amassing one the largest collections and resurrecting the demand for vintage Bakelite jewelry in general.)

These are snippets on Sleeper’s jewelery from a beauty and fashion column published in the Mansfield News Journal on April 17, 1940:

An ad for Martha Sleeper’s jewelry found in the Racine Journal Times November 10, 1939 — only $1!

Another ad, with an image, of Sleeper jewelry designs; The Salt Lake Tribune, October 10, 1941:

In 1949, Sleeper and her husband sailed on a 40-foot schooner from from New York for a vacation in the Virgin Islands, but when she reached Puerto Rico she fell in love with the island — and stayed. By 1950, Sleeper had given up making jewlery (“too tedious”) for making fashions and had opened “Martha Sleeper Creates,” a boutique at 101 Fortaleza St. in Old San Juan.

The shop began “with two dozen hand-made skirts and three dozen blouses  and filled up the gaps in the place with plants. People thought I had a florist shop and for the first year, I couldn’t sell anything but greens .” (Quotes from Cumberland Evening Times, May 27, 1955; below.)

By 1955, her fashions, and accessories such as purses etc., were exported to other islands and the mainland.  Below is an article from Billings Gazette, July 1, 1964, on Martha Sleeper’s lace fashions:

By 1964, Sleeper is said to have also opened a shop in Palm Beach, Florida.

Image Credits:

Vintage Martha Sleeper birds on twig pin from Decotini.

Vintage Martha Sleeper matchsticks necklace and bracelet set via ModBag.

Pair of vintage Bakelite cat pins by Martha Sleeper via halsll.

Black Martha Sleeper Creates label via Vintage Fashion Guild Forums.

White Martha Sleeper Creates For You label from Bonnie & Clyde’s Treasure Trove Vintage.

Vintage Beauty & Cosmetic Tips Explain Vanity Collectible Conditions

More things for collectors to learn from that 1940’s Hint Hunt booklet — this time the tips could explain some condition issues you find with vintage vanity collectibles.  These vintage beauty and cosmetic tips explain why you might just spot pinholes in powder boxes and find beads in perfume bottles.

For me, such pin pricks and beads are the tangible evidence of the intimacy of these old items… Clues to the connections between decades, even centuries, of women who desire both beauty and practicality.

Antiques & Collectibles Shows On TLC, Maybe

The Learning Channel (TLC) dips its programming toes in the antiques and collectibles TV show waters — very tentatively.

The first try was Pawn Queens, a show not listed anywhere on the TLC website.

Pawn Queens follows the activities of Tom Brunzelle, Greg Holloway, Nikki Ruehl, and Minda Grabiec as they run the Naperville, Illinois, Jewelry & Loan. Since the pawn and resale shop tries to attract mainly female customers, the focus of the show is Nikki Ruehl and Minda Grabiec.

The first two trial episodes focused on the blunders of their business — a misplaced $9,000 diamond ring, not enough cash on hand to purchase a vintage Barbie, and, my favorite, when two of the partners clash over the purchase of an antique stove which needs a lot of restoration. (What made it my favorite was that Tom and Minda bicker like an old married couple; Tom’s purchase and beautiful professional restoration “wins” in terms of eventually satisfying Minda, but we never do see the stove sell so…)

At TV By The Numbers, where the press release for the show was published, there are many negative comments. Most of the comments are, in my opinion, extremely sexist. Not just the obvious comments on breasts, but the comparisons to Pawn Stars (of which I am a fan) are clearly filled with heated testosterone.

Even the more serious complaints at other sites of improper use of diamond testers and jewelers loupes are rather ridiculous — this is television! When have you ever seen any cast member or expert on any of the plethora of antiques and collectibles shows even put on a pair of archival gloves when handling fragile old documents? Grrr!

And, yeah, I think they (eventually) did over-pay for the Barbie; but then I don’t sell in the Illinois market.  I’m always rather struck by prices on these shows from California and Las Vegas which suggest prices we dealers can’t fathom here in Fargo — but that, long with the mistakes made and rare finds, are rather part of why I’m entertained and, somewhat, educated by these collectibles shows.

I saw the first two episodes of Pawn Queens and rather liked them; but after frantically searching for more, I couldn’t find any… The show isn’t listed at the production company’ website either, so I suspect it has been canceled.

However, in searching the channel guide so often, I found TLC’s second try, What The Sell?!

What The Sell?! isn’t only TLC’s return to antiques and collectibles television — it’s another return to Illinois and, for the jaded, a return to the reality show Pawn Stars format of three generations running a business.

In this show, the action is focused on Kate Martin (the daughter), Judy Martin (Kate’s mother), and Gloria Moroni (Kate’s grandmother), the owners and appraisers of The Perfect Thing, an upscale consignment boutique in Wheaton, IL. That means more antiques, art, and decorative pieces than in many of the other shows which seem so male focused.

As you might guess, there are the usual family frictions, such as when Daughter doesn’t listen to Mom when having a chair reupholstered, and the usual dickering — including among the ladies for who has the right to purchase and take home a favored item. And lots of giggling when Grandma is the only one mature enough to discuss the 1920s tin of condoms found inside a Flapper’s purse.

I’ve only seen one and a half episodes of this new(ish) show, but it holds some interest.

What The Sell?! barely has a mark on the TLC website; just a few episodes listed on the schedule — which is more than Pawn Queens has, but still, that’s not too promising…

My only real comment is that TLC ought to commit to antiques and collectibles programming, give us a chance to find new shows — especially in a busy holiday season.

Ephemera Collector Saves Baby & Bathwater From Being Tossed Out

Ephemera collector Dick Sheaff shares this 1875 carte de visite (CDV) photograph by William Shaw Warren of Boston which seems to be the source for The Pond’s Extract Company’s trade card advertising.

Dressing Up The Past: Antique Candy Boxes

Roughly 19 months ago, this vintage papier-mache chocolate gift box was found in the carefully-preserved collection of Swiss chocolatier Frederick Belmont, who founded Bettys Café Tea Rooms in Harrogate in 1919.

Dating to the 1920’s, the figural paper candy box has a little vamp posing in her silk lingerie lounging atop a white bearskin rug.

Sarah Wells looks after the Bettys archives/Frederick Belmont collection, which dates to 1919. In an interview with the Ilkley Gazette, Wells said:

It is part of a selection of bits and pieces kept by Mr Belmont. He kept a scrapbook of adverts and lots of other things from the 1920s and 1930s.

Wells says the company is lucky to be able to draw on inspiration from the collection of original items kept all these years. In the recent past, the chocolate company has used illustrations from the collection on its new tins, such as this Lady Betty tin.

When staff at Betty’s unearthed this vintage papier-mache chocolate gift box with the lovely lady, they were charmed — and a bit shocked!

We hear our founder had an eye for the ladies but even so, our mystery model was leaving very little to the imagination… The sensuous slant of her garment suggests that a fine chocolate or two was simply a prelude to a passionate encounter.

In this article in the Yorkshire Post, Miss Wells had this to say about the risqué candy box:

I am surprised at how daring the original chocolate box is for its time as there is quite a lot of flesh on display. I know there were flappers and jazz bands, but it is still not far from the Victorian period. The fact that it is still a bit risqué even nowadays, shows it must have caused quite a stir.

Yet the charms of the lady were too plentiful to ignore — not only in terms of a new tin, but the chocolates themselves. The Telegraph reports:

Following the discovery of the box, chocolatiers have spent the past 18 months painstakingly recreating and modernising Mr Belmont’s original recipes.

Bettys executive chocolatier Claire Gallagher, who helped develop the new range, said: “The original box was absolutely beautiful.

“Obviously it had to be slightly changed but it is wonderfully nostalgic and helped inspire the chocolates in it.

So, on the new tin, the model has been modified:

The pretty brunette has had buttons added to her clothes, her hair smoothed down and a suggestively arched eyebrow has been lowered to make the box more appropriate to the tea room’s wholesome image.

She still remains lovely…

Though I prefer the antique “risqué” version. But I am American, after all, and our standards are a bit different. *wink*

If you have any information about the model who posed for this vintage box, or the “Betty” for whom the chocolate company was named, please contact Sarah Wells: sarah.wells@bettysandtaylors.co.uk

Image Credits:

Woman with papier-mache 1920’s vintage gift box via Yorkshire Post.

Lady Betty tin via Bettys Café Tea Rooms.

Vintage paper box with new tin photo by Glen Minikin RossParry.co.uk, via The Telegraph.

The Fab Four For Your Legs

This pair of vintage Beatles stockings was made in England by Ballito Mills for Scott-Centenaire Ltd.; the packaging features the face and signatures of the Fab Four.

The individual stockings were packed in pairs, but they also were packaged in standard blue Ballito boxes.

Beatles nylon stockings may be rare, but there were many variations in packaging, stocking design, and even makers.

Ballito Mills alone had multiple varies in packaging and stocking design; this pair features Fab Four and a 45 RPM record on the packaging and the nylon stockings themselves have the Fab Four on the welt.

The Powerhouse Museum, which has Beatles stockings in their Beecher-Moore Stocking Collection, describes a pair of 1966 Ballito Beatles stockings in greater detail:

The faces are printed in blue, pink and white above each band member’s signature. The faces are repeated as a pattern woven through the legs of both stockings.

This pair of Ballito stockings dates to 1964 features not only The Beatles on the welt, but the textured mesh nylon stockings have a clearly repeated design of faces and guitars.

Other Beatles stockings were made in Holland and sold by Vroom and Dreesmann for the Dutch market. According to the seller:

Unlike the vintage UK “Carefree” and “Ballito” Beatles Nylons these do not have any decorations or Beatles imagery in the stockings themselves. There are no identifying marks on the stockings.

While the above seem clearly to be licensed products, these four 1960s packages “Kinder Mini Hose” of pantyhose for children, appear to be unlicensed.

I wonder how many kids were disappointed in those stockings?

And I wonder how many more vintage Beatles stocking styles and manufacturers were made — and still out there for collectors to find!

Image Credits:

Vintage Ballito Beatles stockings from sg4beatles.

Image of two pairs of Ballito Beatles stockings with Ballito box via iCollector.

Ballito package with record and photo of stocking welt from 20th Century Collectibles.

Vintage Beatles textured patterned Ballito stockings from 991.

The vintage Vroom and Dreesmann Beatles stockings photos via haze54.

Kinder Mini Hose photo via iCollector.

Auction Hunters On Spike

Spike TV enters the antiques and collectibles television programing fray with Auction Hunters.

Similar to Storage Wars, this show’s action is focused on the bidding, buying and selling of the content of storage units; unlike Storage Wars, the show has a much stronger focus on antiques and collectibles, and only follows two men.

The two men are Clinton “Ton” Jones and Allen Haff, partners in their quest to win auctions.

The fact that these men are partners gives the show a camaraderie — more like the ribbing on American Pickers than the very macho male competition on Storage Wars.

Auction Hunters is also much more frank about educating you, the viewer, on how to evaluate storage units. There are tips on what to bring, how to spot a “good locker,” and they even show you more of the work and expense involved in restoring things before they’re flipped for profit.

The first season’s nearly over for this TV series; the season finale is scheduled for Tuesday, December 21, at 10/9 PM.  Initially, I had a very difficult time finding the show on at a time I was able to watch; but when one episode is on, there’s usually a block or marathon of them, so you can likely find some time to watch a few episodes back to back.  And I highly recommend that you do.

Putting a Price on Priceless

Anyone who has watched even a little television in the last decade will know the popularity of shows where experts help ‘average people’ look through their possessions in the hope of finding something surprisingly valuable. Except, it shouldn’t really be a surprise because nearly everyone, or so you would be forgiven for thinking, has something worth thousands of pounds sitting around in their house.

Whilst this is perhaps not strictly speaking true, most of us do own items of some considerable value, though whether they’d make their way onto an antiques programme is another matter. Even things we may not consider to be all that valuable can be worth a lot of money, so it’s important to keep their protection in mind.

Home insurance is the first line of defence. Home insurance is a blanket term covering two separate types of insurance: buildings insurance (which covers the fabric of your house) and contents insurance (which covers anything which you would take with you if you were to move). Whilst both forms of insurance are extremely important (and they’re often sold together) it is contents insurance that is really vital when it comes to things like antiques.

The trick with contents insurance is to remember that you are looking for value rather than price. The cheapest deal is not going to be the best one if it doesn’t provide the level of coverage that you are looking for.

But what is the right level? All the advice says the right amount of coverage is the sum you would have to pay if you had to buy everything you own again. Except, sometimes you can’t buy things again, because they are unique and antique, or because they have sentimental value.

Unfortunately, sentimental value doesn’t mean too much to insurers, but the unique and the antique does. Make sure you get an independent valuation and, if something is worth a particularly large amount, get it insured separately, you’ll have to pay a touch more for the privilege but you will guarantee that you’re fully covered for everything.

Another tip is to always keep a comprehensive list of everything particularly valuable that you own, along with (if possible) up to date images of each object to vouch for the condition of the objects. This will make it much easier if you ever have to make an insurance claim.

Finally, don’t be put off by all the competition in the market. Finding an insurance policy can be daunting, so use the competition to your advantage and strike a hard bargain, that’s the best way of getting a good deal. Check out comparison websites, specialist insurers, and even for antiques it’s worth taking a look at the odd mainstream insurer like Legal & General (who offer a wide range of home insurance policies), you may be pleasantly surprised.

Image Credits: Maid Cleaning the Silver Ware Photographic Print by Nina Leen; via AllPosters.com.

Bedroom Inspiration From Vintage Photo

All I really know about this image is that the lady is Mrs. Louis Bromfield, that the photo was taken by Alfred Eisenstaedt in 1942 — and that I love that headboard!

The headboard appears to be hand painted or, if fabric, embroidered with the titles of her husband’s books. What a lovely idea! …If not your book titles, why not the names of your children, special dates, etc.?

Celebrating The Wishbone (In Old Illustration)

‘Tis the season for fabulous holiday meals featuring turkey, and this antique illustration shows the longevity of breaking the wishbone.

This illustration, captioned “If Their Wishes Came True,” was scanned from my copy of Caricature: The Wit & Humor of a Nation in Picture, Song & Story (Illustrated by America’s Greatest Artists).

I’ve only a partial cover of my copy of Caricature; but at a mere $6, I’m not disheartened, for it’s full of fabulous art, quips, and stories. It’s like a time capsule, really. And it’s not just me being sentimental.

Near as I can tell (for there’s no copyright or publication date), this antique book contains “the best of” Leslie-Judge Company publications, such as Leslie’s Weekly and Judge Magazine.

This specific illustration showing a couple breaking the wishbone is credited; copyright, Judge, New York, 1915. However as the corner is torn, I cannot make out the artist’s name.  I’m hoping a more experienced illustration collector can tell us more about who the artist was or may have been… Please post a comment if you’ve any information!

Dating Old Newspaper Clippings (And Some Telephone Number History)

As an ephemera collector, I find lots of old clippings inside my vintage magazines, retro catalogs, and even in my antique books. While the acidic old paper may be a threat to already fragile old paper, I am delighted by what I find. It’s somehow comforting to know that we humans have always clipped and tucked away little bits and bobs in publications, either to save them as related materials or as a bookmark in a pinch.

The trouble is trying to discover the age of the clipping itself, because, then as now, we humans don’t exactly tuck only ephemera from the same year as the publication itself.

Now for some, the year of the clipping is irrelevant; but I am an admitted obsessive, remember? So it matters to me.

When I found these old bits of paper in a recently purchased vintage copy of Watkins Household Hints, I wanted to post them to my vintage home ec site, Things Your Grandmother Knew — but I wanted to properly document them as accurately as possible. While the date on the old handwritten partial tip on whitening clothes would be nearly impossible to know, I felt compelled to do better with the newspaper clippings.

Neither vintage newspaper clipping has any masthead or anything to indicate the newspaper name or location, but I figured I could at least get a date or time period for them.

The first one, the larger one with the list of household tips, was easy. There was the complete short story of the resignation of Marvin L. McLain. No, I’m no expert on US assistant secretaries of agriculture; but Google helped nail that date to October 27, 1960. (Give or take a day, I suppose.)

The other clipping however…

The only clue I had to help me with this clipped and saved tip on brightening furniture was the ad on the back. An advertisement with an unusual phone number.

Now I’m familiar with telephone numbers with letters in them; prior to 1958, phone numbers used exchange name dialing or letter prefixes. (And, in fact, it wasn’t until sometime in the mid-1980s that exchange name dialing gave way to all-number calling or ANC.) However, the phone number in this ad, “1597-J,” doesn’t have a letter prefix, it has a letter suffix.

This I was not familiar with.

I knew it was a phone number, not some blind box number; the ad reads “Phone 1597-J.” Was it possible this was just a more fashionable way to write a phone number? It certainly wasn’t a pragmatic or effective way because the exchange would need to be dialed or given to the phone operator first. It just didn’t seem to make sense.

I tried to do some online research, but I didn’t find much to help me. I knew I was putting the wrong words or terms into search engines and data bases. Knowing I was at a wall, I decided to look up the “J” and see where it might least me…

According to the The Telephone EXchange searchable database, the letter — if a telephone exchange, belonged to San Diego. So I contacted the San Diego History Center. While I waited for a response, I also contacted the Library Of Congress, telephone book collector Gwillim Law, and Ammon Shea, author of The Phone Book: The Curious History of the Book That Everyone Uses But No One Reads.

Not content to just sit back and wait for returned calls and emails, I turned to the only other clue I had: the name of the person can business mentioned in the old ad: Arnold Kholmetz, Auctioneer and Realtor. That turned up some old articles in the Milwaukee Journal – Sentinel Archives. This made sense because the first clipping seemed to be from a Wisconsin newspaper and the old household tips book itself was purchased in that state.

So, naturally, I then did what any true obsessive does and called the Journal Sentinel to speak to their archivist. Sadly, Mr. King hadn’t any idea himself regarding the phone number, but he suggested a few other places to try.

The first was AT&T, which does have a telephone history page, has no means of connecting you to anyone but customer service. (I’m not sure you’d call it “irony”: it was simply pure frustration to have their operator inform you that they outside of customer service they only have a list of names and extensions, no departments, etc.) I did manage to get to the voice mail of “Investor Relations” but no one has returned my call and I don’t expect anyone ever will. Note to collectors and historians: Don’t bother contacting AT&T; not by phone anyway.

The second place Mr. King suggested was the Milwaukee Public Library; they couldn’t help me, but stated I was welcome to come in and look through all their old phone books to see if I could find the research I needed.

Well, I wasn’t going to do that — at least not right now; but I wasn’t going to give up either. Like a dog with a bone, and fueled with the rationalization of helping other collectors by writing a great “how to” article, I wasn’t ready to give up.  I could call the Watertown Public Library (because that’s where those old Journal Sentinel archive clippings said Mr. Kohlmetz was from) or I could try to research the partial radio show listings showing there at left of the clipping…

But then Jane Kenealy, Archivist at the San Diego History Center, called me back.

I explained to her that I no longer believed I had an old San Diego phone number, but did she have any idea what the “J” could be at the end of a phone number?

She said she didn’t know, but went to get the 1931 San Diego City Directory — the first city directory which listed phone numbers. I listened to her as she read numbers that ended in “J” and a few other letters, but it was clear, she said, that these letters were suffixes; that they were not exchanges because each page or section of the listings began with the exchange, then listed the phone numbers. We were both puzzled…

“All the phone numbers which end in letters end in either a ‘J,’ ‘M,’ ‘R,’ or ‘W’… But no place in the book is there an explanation…” said Kenealy with the excitement of a researcher enjoying her clues. “Let me go look for another book and I’ll call you back.”

Somewhere in the back of my brain those four letters meant something; I just couldn’t access it. Not yet. So I searched for “telephone J M R W” and found this:

A Restored Notchless Dial Plate with the letters J M R W in red, which are explained at that site as follows:

J M R W were suffixes used on the station numbers on certain manual (non-dial) common battery exchanges that had 10000 line switchboards with 4 subscribers on each line. In metropolitan areas where there was a mixture of dial and manual telephones because the transformation from manual to dial service was in progress and still had not been completed, the DIAL phones were provided with dials with these letters so they could call the MANUAL subscribers who did not yet have dial telephones. The conversion from manual to dial often extended over several years. Washington, DC for example started this conversion with its first dial exchange which was cut into service on May 3, 1930. But this conversion did not complete until the last manual exchange was converted to automatic dial operation on April 23, 1949 – some 19 years later. Chicago started its conversion in the early 20s, but it did not complete until 1957.

Upon seeing that vintage telephone dial plate, and this Western Electric Candlestick Telephone, I not only remembered the old party lines but knew that I just should have picked up my modern cell phone and called my parents about this old phone number; they likely would have known all of this and saved me a lot of work.

And then my cell phone rang and Ms. Kenealy was excitedly telling me that the “J” was referencing a party line. She had found this bit of telephone number history:

line numbers could be one to four digits long; multi-party lines had a letter tacked onto each station on parties sharing the line. All parties on the same line shared the same numericals however. 2-party lines differentiated each other with W & J 4-party lines used J, M, R, W

I felt embarrassed that I’d sent her on such a long wild goose chase, but Ms. Kenealy was more than kind — she was excited. “Thank you for helping me find out something I didn’t know! I’ve never had the excuse to look this up,” she said. And then we ended up talking a bit about how this party line information hadn’t been published in any of the directories or phone books because people then “just knew what it was.” Which, leads to a larger issue of why history and indeed collecting with an obsessive streak are so important — including our documentation of it all these years later.

And that brings us back to the date of this old newspaper clipping…

I did contact the Watertown Public Library, but they had no records regarding the end of party lines.  But for me, this is where the research ends.

I’m satisfied at this point narrowing it down to somewhere between the 1930s and the early 1950s… Likely the mid 40’s, based on all the little clues, such as dates on the newspaper clippings (and ads without such patyline references), the fact that the clipping mentions using silk (and after WWII, nylon was more in vogue and use than silk).

It’s not pinpoint accuracy, but I think I’ve accomplished helping other collectors learn how to date the clippings they have, assisted in documenting a part of history — and been reminded that one’s own parents are still an excellent resource, no matter what kind of help you need.