say it with pencils

Bob Truby's Brand Name Pencils is a bit of an enigma. Although it's obviously a serious collectors blog it's refreshingly clean, spiffy and well-designed. We don't get to know much about Bob or about the endeavor of pencil collecting in general, but I sure like what I see: colors! whimsical finishes! odd names! Deco-ish scripts! The giddy delight I have in seeing all these pencils (142 different brands) goes beyond my affinity for anything in gridded multiples, there's something slyly charming going on here. We tend to forget that although the storied "No.2" pencil looms large in the common psyche there are in fact No.1s, 3s and 4s, Hs, HBs, and Bs—a factor of the softness grade of the graphite. There's more to this story. Surely there should be more links to pencil history?!

Update: A friend alerted me to this paean to pencils on Kottke, which in turn pointed me to Pencil Revolution, a website for hardcore pencil aficionados. While I'm not as zealous as they are, I certainly enjoy the feel of graphite on paper and definitely appreciate the details in my own way... Amongst the comments on the kottke piece are references to two pencil aspects I do feel strongly about, the scourge of dried out erasers that skitter across the page leaving smeary trail, and the delights of sharpening. When I was little we had a heavy steel school sharpener (what is the statute of limitations for pilfering from the Board of Education?). I liked everything about it-- the articulated hand crank, the sphincter-like opening that held the pencil in place, and inside, the rotary sharpening blades were a marvel. I liked the delicate tendrils of of the wood shavings and their distinctive smell. It was built like a tank and I got a sense of satisfaction every time I emptied the chamber. Anyone else have pencil memories to share?
[All images from Bob Truby's Brand Name Pencils]

Off to Atlantic City

Somehow, I think the sights have changed... but I will report back.

recent acquisitions and Rewards of Merit

An early big letter "Greetings From" postcard.
It's postmarked 1935 but the bathing beauties featured within the letters, below, show
that the design is at least 12-15 years older.

The Woolworth Building, featured on this very early "Greetings From" postcard, dates it to 1913 or after.

"Reward of Merit for Ready Obedience to Orrilla (?) Reed".
Note touches of hand coloring.

Chromolithographed reward with metallic silver ink

Rewards of Merit were tokens of recognition for good behavior given to students by teachers.
Popular throughout the 18th and 19th century, by the 20th century I think "official" rewards had been downgraded to "gold star". They are a good source of contemporary imagery and printing techniques. The earliest rewards were virtually always religious. Many 18th and early 19th century rewards were printed or engraved in black and then hand colored, while later they became showy fillips of chromolithography, like the specimen above..

Recognized in Passing, Part II

Mott Street at Canal, c 1905

Mott Street at Canal, 2013

c.1940

Not my most elegant post, perhaps, but it makes up with raw enthusiasm what it lacks in style. I happened to be down in Chinatown, crossing Mott street where it meets the Bowery, and stopped in my tracks. I recognized the view. I knew I had stashed away a vintage image (by way of Shorpy, "the 100 year old photo blog.") of a funeral processing down that very stretch of street, c. 1905. Once you study it, you realize quite a few of the buildings remain, they're just encrusted with a visual blight of signs, altered by bad storefronts and obscured by a welter of street furniture. And of course the cars.

In the first 2 photos, the building at far left with arched windows even retains the shutters and the very same fire escape. Further on (second from bottom photo comparison) you'll see the 2 tenements with ornate cornices as well as their plainer neighbors and the church remain. The Church steeple has lost its ring of tiny dormer clerestory windows on the slanted roof but its otherwise unchanged.

Most puzzling is the fate of the building mid-block on the left, identified in the vintage shot as #5, the Imperial Restaurant. It has beautiful ornate iron grillework on the second story balcony and is hung with paper lanterns. On street level is a pagoda-style entry. It's a 6 story building. Today the stunted yellow structure at number 5 stands only 4 stories tall. Oddly, it too is a restaurant ("Buddha Bodai Nature Kosher Vegetarian Restaurant") and has a second floor balcony, but for no apparent reason. Could it be a remnant of the former building left during remodelling—rather than a new building? Nothing about 5 Mott Street seems particularly logical or planned (a blocked up 4th floor for instance) which led me to think it might be the original building, with an expedient, rather than sensitive, overhaul. A quick look on Emporis lists the construction date as 1910. Although thats notoriously unreliable it does indicate the building is "old." Further research finds the building was described as "new" in 1903. The image, bottom, from the Museum of the City of NY shows the building, full height, in 1940.

Check out my previous Recognized in Passing with Elizabeth Street.

the pathos of a library card

An encore post, with updates:
I have a small unintentional collection of library cards.
Each card, long after its obsolescence, remained tucked like a little secret note in a book I borrowed or bought. But they're far from billets doux— rather they give off a blustery officiousness with their "do not remove"-s and their all-caps penalties.
 
They document a nice range of data-recording technology--from hand-written to type-written, rubber stamp to various arcane punch card configurations. That seems kind of interesting as a tiny piece of Historical Record. But mostly I just like them formally, graphically. The red-edged card at top right is positively bristling with overly involved methodology and procedure. The "Alluring Problem" with its red accent and bold star has an obvious beauty but I think my favorite is the small printed and punched ticket at lower left. The holes give a delicate visual syncopation to the printed statements which, although they are emphatically not, remind me of a haiku.

Library cards are extremely mundane but have a subtle intricacy that's poignant. There's something quietly affecting about the card on the bottom, right. Each month and year stamped and noted, each entry a remnant of a long-ago reader whose path crossed at that exact point with that very book. Had that card lain dormant in the back of Fashions in American Typography, in the basement of the Brooklyn Library, since June 29 or so, 1950—the last date recorded? Had it not seen the light of day until I requested it be retrieved after 60 years?

Am I waxing too precious to think of each of these little pieces of paper as superannuated governesses, each as an attempt to safeguard their charge when released out in the world?

Calling all Invalid Ladies

Burdock Blood Bitters
"There are thousands of females in America who suffer untold miseries from
chronic diseases common to their sex. This is due largely to the peculiar
habits of life and fashion, and the improper training of girlhood...
All Invalid Ladies should send for our Special Circular addressed to
Ladies Only, which treats on a subject of vital importance."

"This 'safe' remedy contains over 19 percent of alcohol, with only 4.85 percent of solids (nearly half of which is sugar), and alkaloids possibly derived from hydrastis. The amount of vegetable extractives is small, certainly not enough to give the results claimed. "From the composition reported, and also from the name of the stuff, it appears to be one of the nostrums of the old 'blood purifier' type. Such products, as you know, are useless, as they do not purify the blood.'"–  the CANADIAN MEDICAL ASSOCIATION Journal, 1937

It will positively cure deafness in 2 days.
Dr. Thomas' Eclectric Oil was first produced by Dr. S.N. Thomas of Phelps, New York in the late 1840s and reportedly contained “Spirits of Turpentine, Camphor, Oil of Tar, Red Thyme and Fish Oil specially processed.” It was marketed until the 1950s.

"GRODER'S DYSPEPSIA SYRUP Cures the System. A BROKEN DOWN ENGINE is like the human system, stricken with disease. Nine tenths of all our diseases arise from the stomach, because the stomach is Nature's Boiler Room where the steam (the blood) that moves the human machinery is really made. Keep the stomach in good order by the use of GRODER'S DYSPEPSIA SYRUP, and the machinery will run smoothly.”

The letters of Voices

The title page, even with its centered typography, betrays more than a little Artistic Printing influence

this credit line and address is from another publication.
The 150 Nassau Street building is now a landmarked condominium!

 

 

Voices is a small booklet of inspirational religious excerpts “arranged by Helen P. Strong” and published by the American Tract Society in 1886. I picked it up in Maine on a recent trip because, even though the subject matter doesn’t speak to me, I thought the hand lettering was exquisite. (By the way, the term for this sort of embellished, decorative hand lettering is called “engrossing” and it was. I was fascinated enough to plunk down $20 for it!) I love the text's quirky inventiveness— an almost hectic play of size, embellishment and composition. Tails sprout and tendrils meander over its Gothic/Medieval/calligraphic letterforms.

Although it’s hand lettered and chromolithographed (in brownish black, taupe gray, red, blue and metallic gold) it has an Artistic feel to it. “Artistic Printing” you may or may not know is an elaborate style of commercial letterpress printing extremely popular in the later 19th century. Doug and I wrote a book about it; read more about it here. Whether hand done, lithographed or letterpress printed, this sort of spikey, spidery decorative layering was all the rage.

The American Tract Society, an evangelical organization that dates back to 1825, was one of the first entities to mass produce and distribute printed illustrated materials (I dont remember where I read this but it seems plausible and significant). ATS appears to have used many talented illustrators, letterers, printers and engravers, including the great Alexander Anderson (See my post about Anderson, one of America’s finest engravers). Although this booklet doesnt explicitly state it, from my bit of research it seems Helen P. Strong did both the illustrations and the lettering, as well as edit the excerpts. I came across another illustrated publication of hers for sale on etsy, Memory's Sketchbook, from 1891, and noted her credit on a few other titles. I want to know more about Helen!