A Haunted Portrait

Well, I don't know if it's really haunted, but it seems a distinct possibility...

My favorite antique dealer decided this year that she was ready to part with this portrait of her family ancestor. (I know what you're thinking: how could she bear to give up such an heirloom?! I wondered too.)

The tinted photograph is in its original, 21 inch tall domed-glass frame, and dates from the early 1900s. The green miasma in the background really heightens the spooky mood, I think. I'm not sure what effect the photo tinters were going for there, but I can't imagine they intended the "ghoulish vapour" look they unwittingly achieved.

Isn't he a delightfully creepy looking kid?

Several observers have said he looks rather like a young Uncle Fester, of Addams Family fame. I haven't mentioned this to the antique dealer, as I believe the little boy was actually a relative of her husband's, and I'm not sure how flattered she'd be by that comparison....

Souvenir Spirit Photograph from the Johnstown Flood

I discovered this photograph in an old album we rescued from an abandoned house a few years ago. (That's a long story in itself, for another day...) I was thrilled to realize I had found my first "spirit photo." These images of "ghosts" created through various tricky means were all the rage during the heyday of Spiritualism in the Victorian period, and again in the 1920s.

In the photo, the young woman with the upraised arm and the old man on the left are real, while the two large, transparent figures are the "ghosts." One of the most remarkable things about this photo is that it accidentally reveals the process of making the "spirit" effect. The old man on the left simply stepped to the side before the lengthy exposure process was complete, which left his ghostly imprint in the center. The "real" old man shouldn't be in the finished photograph at all, but the photographer didn't crop the picture properly. This was a pretty sloppy spirit photo, clearly churned out at a fast clip for the tourist trade.

Original, antique spirit photos are highly collectible, and several books have been written about them.  This one is extra-special, in that it is also a souvenir photo. The back of the picture bears a stamp which reads:

"Steven Studio 318 Broad St. Johnstown PA." Pencilled on the back is the caption, "Anna and Spirit pechirt (picture?) April 1924".

This photo proves there is no event too terrible for a shameless huckster to profit from. Johnstown, Pennsylvania is famous as the site of a horrific flood that killed 2, 209 of its citizens on May 31, 1889. A dam broke during a tremendous storm, and the resulting torrent all but swept Johnstown away. The disaster was so heart-wrenching, it was commemorated country-wide in lithographs, poetry, sheet music, books, and stereograph cards all the way into the 1920s, when Hollywood released a major motion picture based on the event.

You can learn more about the Johnstown flood at the Johnstown Flood Museum, and see more spirit photographs at the American Museum of Photography.

Big-Eared Bear

My very favorite antique teddy bears tend to be not the high end models, like Steiff, or those in rare mint condition. Although of course I enjoy finding such fine examples, I actually prefer bears from unknown makers who had, shall we say, less than a firm grasp of stuffed toy design.
I also adore bruins who have been heavily loved, and experienced a lot of life. These two factors combine to create bears who are full of character, like "Rupert" here, a c.1915 American teddy with the hugest ears I've ever seen.

Rupert was lovingly dressed long ago by a previous owner. I'm leaving him as found, especially as his clothes are helping to hold him together!

Is this the cutest face ever seen on a teddy bear?
I think, quite possibly, yes.

Somewhere during his long lifetime, Rupert had an owner who thought he was the perfect model for a portrait, which has fortunately remained with him:

I'm not sure what the beer bottle signifies. I'm hoping Rupert doesn't turn out to have a "drinking problem..."

Here's Rupert with his new best friend, Nosey Parker, another character-filled bear:

Antique German Garden Gnomes

I love gnomes, and they comprise a major category of the "other stuff" I collect. The oldest gnomes in my collection are these miniature terracotta versions, made in Germany in the 1920s-30s.

They're an expressive bunch of little guys, measuring 6 inches tall.

 One of my favorites in this set is the smoking gnome. He reminds me of that photo of J.R.R. Tolkien that's on most of his books. He's holding his pipe in just the same way, and looks like he's about to say something both jovial and profound.

And then there's this gnome, lying about in a leisurely fashion, with rather a "come-hither" look on his face. His friend in the background is even more obviously "on the make": check out the open shirt and wanton expression. (He's also the only gnome I've ever seen with muttonchop sideburns instead of the traditional long gnome beard.)

 

Hard-working garden gnomes, these are not.

Antique Photo of Child With Garden Gnome

I've been wanting to do a little theme on garden gnomes for awhile (I adore gnomes), and I thought I'd start with this: a 1920s German photograph of a little boy with his gnome.

Kind of a creepy-looking gnome, no?

Garden gnomes got their start way back in the mid-1800s in Germany. The earliest were made of terracotta and were finely sculpted. Travelers to Germany took the gnomes back to France and England, where they became very popular with hobby gardeners. In America, these ornamental figures are often referred to as lawn, not garden, gnomes, perhaps reflecting the suburbanite obsession with their little plots of grass.

To learn more about gnomes, check out Garden Gnomes: a History, by the oddly yet aptly named garden historian Twigs Way.

Antique Photo of Child with Stearns Automobile and Chauffeur

Over the summer, I found this antique photo of a child playing in a magnificent automobile while a tolerant chauffeur looks on. Usually I only collect old photos of children with toys, a natural extension of my antique toy collecting. But this picture was just too captivating to pass by. And after all, the child is playing in the car, so perhaps we can consider it a toy, albeit a very expensive one.

 It took me awhile to get the car identified, but I'm told by my local "car guy" that it's a Stearns, made by the luxury automobile manufacturer F.B. Stearns of Cleveland, Ohio. Stearns cars were originally in production from 1898-1925, when the company was sold to J.N. Willys of Willys Overland fame. Willys continued making Stearns models until 1929, when they liquidated the company. I'm not sure of this car's date: I've seen pictures online of similar Stearns ranging from 1908-1920s. (Any Stearns experts out there who can identify it, feel free to write me!) In 1906, a typical Stearns auto sold for an astronomical $5,200, which explains the presence of the chauffeur: if you could afford this car back then, you probably had an estate with a substantial domestic staff.

The picture has a label on the back saying it was framed at Crowley, Milner & Company, a Detroit department store that was founded in 1909, so it's a pretty safe bet that this photograph was taken in a posh area of Detroit like Indian Village or its luxurious neighbor, Grosse Pointe.

That's one happy, happy kid. I would be, too, if I had a chauffeur to drive me everywhere!

1930s Mickey Mouse Tea Set

The yard sale and outdoor antique show season is almost over in my part of the world, where the temperatures are already dropping into the 40s (Farenheit) at night. But last weekend I gathered up my spare change, braved the weather, and saled away, finding great bargains like the mod Barbie clothes and Flagg dollhouse dolls mentioned in the previous two posts.

I had decided to pack it in and head home, as the weather was turning decidedly blustery, when I spotted a final sale. It didn't look like much, but I thought I spotted the gleam of vintage lustrewear. I decided to check, and good thing too, because tucked away in a corner of a table was part of a 1930s Mickey Mouse children's tea set, Made in Japan, in the rarer blue lustre variation (when found, these pieces are usually in gold lustre.) Even though it's just a partial set, it's a treasure: one of the earliest licensed Mickey Mouse items ever made!

The find included a little creamer, four saucers, and two plates. For a sense of scale, the largest plates measure about 3 1/4 inches in diameter.

Mickey and Minnie on a nautical outing decorate
a saucer and the creamer.

An artist Mickey features in the center of a plate.

Mickey presents Minnie with a white rabbit, presumably pulled
from a magic hat, on this tiny saucer.

Mickey waters some flowers. He's probably going to give them
to Minnie later.

My favorite piece of all was this one, a little plate with the image of Mickey standing in front of a fantastic vintage microphone. He looks so confident and self-assured, doesn't he? What a cute little guy.

Now I just need to find the matching cups, teapot, and sugar bowl...

A Photogenic Family...Not.

Here's the last picture I saved from a stash of antique cabinet photos I came across this week. I don't know if there was something in the local water, the photographer was intoxicated/inept, inbreeding was rampant in the area, or there was a combination of all the above, but for some reason this cache of photos held an enormous number of odd-looking individuals (see the "Crazy-Eyed Baby" and "Funny-Looking Guy" previously posted below).

This example just begs for a retake: Little Brother, on the far left, has his eyes crossed; Big Brother, standing at the back, has a tragic, haunted expression; Big Sister, on the right, looks like she's about to cry; and the bear rug appears to be eating the Baby.

My apologies in advance if someone recognizes these 

as their ancestors.

Funny-Looking Guy Photo From the 1800s

Found recently in the same stash of antique cabinet photos as the Crazy Eyed Baby, this gentleman gave me pause. He's got a New Wave hairdo going on a century early, but even without that, there's just something odd-looking about him, no? He's definitely a keeper.

McKee's Moving Puzzle

A few weeks ago I stumbled across one of the most amazing advertising premiums I've ever seen. Made in 1927, "McKee's Moving Puzzle" in its nondescript, 4 by 3 1/4 inch box holds a remarkable toy inside: a wooden furniture puzzle complete with some clever copywriting.

The McKee Moving & Storage Company was based in the city of Saskatoon in Saskatchewan, Canada. In 1927 they distributed this puzzle as an advertising premium to potential customers. The box cover reads,
"We can solve all your moving, packing, storage, and shipping problems." 

Inside, the puzzle consists of 9 wooden pieces labelled as various pieces of furniture: piano, chairs, rug, mat, lamp, table, clock, and sofa. The trick is to move the piano from one corner to another without jumping, raising, or turning any piece, one piece at a time. (It's incredibly difficult. I gave up very quickly.) Clever ad copy inside the cover reads:
"Moving is always a problem. Placing the furniture is frequently a puzzle...we can solve this puzzle, as well as your Moving, Storage, Packing or Shipping problems. Write for solution." 

Thank goodness the instructions were included, or I would never have managed it. The text ends with a final advertisement:
"If you have followed the above directions you are now an expert piano mover as far as this puzzle is concerned. However, should you have a real piano or other  household goods to move back, store, or ship don't fail to call on us." 

McKee's is apparently still in business, and if I lived in Saskatchewan, I would definitely hire them to move some of my furniture around, just to show my appreciation for this fantastic toy.

1916 Hoosier Cabinet

I have a thing for Hoosier cabinets, somewhat strangely I suppose, since I don't cook or spend any time in my kitchen (it's used for displaying my PEZ collection). These cabinets, loaded with specialized compartments for groceries and utensils, were a mainstay in American kitchens from the 1900s through the '40s, and were repurposed as storage units in garages and basements for decades after.

They have appeal to collectors of Americana, and many people remember them fondly from visits to their grandmothers. The cabinets can be things of great beauty, but after years of neglect are often found in this condition:

 My mother and I discovered this Hoosier in an alley behind a Salvation Army store, where it had sat all night in a torrential rain storm.  As apparent in the above photo, it had been badly overpainted many times, and was totally waterlogged. But it still had its original etched glass doors and most of its hardware, and I could tell it was old. We felt it didn't deserve such a miserable end after almost a century of faithful service, and we determined to save it. It took a year of sanding, sanding, endless sanding, but finally it was finished last week. When we cleaned the latches, we found a patent date of 1916, which enabled us to identify the cabinet.

Here it is now, restored to its original golden oak finish:

I use it for storing my vintage board game and puzzle collection, which I imagine the cabinet is really enjoying after all those years of holding greasy tools (we think someone had it in their garage for a long time, after its kitchen duty ended).

The silverware drawer is perfect for small puzzles:

Hoosier cabinets are really fascinating things, and you can learn more about them in a great new book that just came out last year: The Hoosier Cabinet in Kitchen History, by Nancy Hiller.

Miniature Pressed Tin Tea Set

Although I don't like tea, I am strangely obsessed with tiny tea sets. Children's, doll's, or dollhouse sized, I collect them all. My latest find was this pressed tin set, made as a doll accessory in the late 1800s/early 1900s, probably in England. The tray is 4 3/4 inches long, the teapot is 2 1/2 inches tall, and the cups are an inch in diameter, not counting the handles. These pictures really don't do it justice; it's an incredibly beautiful, fragile little thing.

Below, my 10 inch German bisque doll has added it to her china cupboard (made long ago from an antique clock case):

Antique Photo of Crazy-Eyed Baby

Some of the "Other Stuff" that I collect are antique photos of children with toys, a natural extension of my antique toy collecting, and an accessory line common to many toy collectors.

Today I found an old picture of a baby, and, even though it's toyless, I had to have it. It's the coolest Victorian baby photo I've ever come across. The baby, dressed in an immaculate white dress, bonnet, and cape, resting on a bearskin rug, has a stunned expression that I interpret as "Oh my goodness: I just crapped my pants!" (At least, that's what I remember this look signifying, back in my baby-sitting days...)

Antique Dollhouse Doll

I'm always happy to add another antique dollhouse doll to my collection. They're rather addictive, and their diminutive size makes them easily (though not cheaply!) collectible. My latest find was this 5 inch tall china head, wearing her original, and very lovely, Turkey Red embroidered dress. The tiny German-made doll dates from the late 1800s.

Her simple face painting still manages to convey a gentle, bemused expression, and her rosy cheeks make her look as if she's blushing. What is she thinking about, I wonder?

Here she is in front of her new home, a circa 1900 lithographed paper dollhouse:

She loves to cook, but she should really have an apron on over that beautiful dress!

Antique Child & Electric Eye Teddy Bear Photo

Some of my favorite non-toy collectibles are antique photos of children with playthings. They're wonderful items on their own, with the glimpse they give of history and the charm of the children, but they're even more wonderful when you discover you own a toy seen in a photo.

One of my favorite antique teddy bears is the Electric Eye Bear, a novelty item made around 1908. These large bears (21 - 24 inches tall) featured electric bulb eyes that actually lit up courtesy of a battery pack concealed in their portly tummies. They were constructed in an unusual manner, with non-jointed legs in a permanently standing position. Many were also accessorized for some reason as circus bears with collars, bells, and nose rings. I'm very fortunate to have found two such bears, one of which still retains his glass bulb eyes.

 I've seen many, many pictures of children with teddy bears (they were a very popular studio prop from the 1900s onward) but I had never seen one of these rare bears in an antique photo until I stumbled across this:

 The little girl is just adorable, and she caught my attention so much that at first I didn't even notice the bear. But when I did, I was stunned to find it's an electric eye: the profile is unmistakable. What a lucky little girl she was (and so am I!)

Antique Dollhouse Toast Rack

Last week I scored an antique dollhouse miniature that I've coveted for a long time, but I could never bring myself to pay its hefty asking prices. It's a tiny toast rack, complete with four slices of toast, made in Germany by Gerlach from 1915 through the 1920s.

 My 5 inch china doll has added the toast rack to her breakfast table.

The rack is made of a soft metal and the toast is a composition-type material. It's incredibly fragile and very beautiful.

It's an irony of miniature collecting that sometimes the smallest things have the highest prices. This tiny object, only an inch and a quarter tall, usually comes with a three-figure price tag! The only examples I've seen in the two years I've been looking were priced at $135 and $110, which are typical for this piece. I resisted these offerings, firmly telling myself there was no way I was going to spend $135 on an inch tall toast rack, and am I ever glad I did, because the one I found last week was somehow unknowingly priced at only $14.99! Sometimes, the toy collecting gods smile upon us, and things like this happen...thank you, toy gods, thank you.

Teddy Bear Mystery Solved

A while back, I posted an entry about an antique teddy bear that I had tentatively identified as American, from the early 1920s. Well, was I ever wrong! But I wouldn't have known without a recent teddy bear purchase and a tip from its helpful eBay seller.

Here are the two bears in question, side by side. The gold bear is the first one, which we guessed was American based on the inset cloth nose and happy expression. But it remained a puzzling bruin, with a very odd body structure, and I remained rather uncertain about it. A couple of weeks ago, I found the second bear, the white one on the right, and after studying it, realized they're both by the same maker. The wear present on the first bear makes them not as obviously identical as one might hope, but the type of eyes, size and placement of ears (which contain tiny squeakers!), inset cloth nose, crooked grins, tubby body shape, and the unusual limbs all match.

What really clinched the ID was the claw stitching, some of the most unusual I've ever seen. The feet feature odd, linked up stitches, while the paws have very long, thick claws.

The seller of the white bear suggested the British maker, Peacock, as the source, with a date of 1914, and using that information I finally found a reference to this bear in a guide book. Turns out it's a pretty rare bear, so I feel doubly lucky to now have two!