(Almost) Wordless Wednesday: Christmas Cards 1910

Printed by S L Company in Saxony, Germany, 1910

Printed by S L Company in Saxony, Germany, 1910

Note the publisher's trademark in the lower left-hand corner

Note the publisher’s trademark in the lower left-hand corner

My grandfather’s postcard collection dates from 1906-1910, a wonderful glimpse into the life of small, turn-of-the-century boy.  But Donald C. Minor’s cards also offer the simple pleasure of Christmas artwork, which I never tire of admiring.

Two red-breasted songsters perch on a sprig of holly, which is decorated with a sprig of mistletoe and a golden horseshoe.  This brightly colored card is meant to bring the recipient great cheer, that is for certain.  Published by the New York-based Samuel Langdorf and Company*, number 841 was one of several designs the company printed in Saxony, Germany in 1910.

Donald C. Minor received this card from Ralph on December 20, 1910.

“Hello Donal. How are you? What do you want Santa to bring you? I want a gun but mama says i can not have it so I will haft (sic) to take what ever I get. Your friend, Ralph”

There are other postcards from Ralph and his younger brother, Blair, in my grandfather’s postcard collection.  Using the search engine of Ancestry.com I entered Ralph as living in South Connellsville, PA in 1910 with a sibling, Blair.  The return included a interesting match: Ralph Younkin, 10, son of Milton R and May Waychoff Younkin, living with Blair, 8, and grandmother, Jennie Waychoff, in Connellsville, Fayette County, Pennsylvania.  I have researched the Minor family fairly well, and the Younkin surname is unfamiliar.  However, recently collected cousin memories suggest that Donald’s parents were friends with the Waychoff family; perhaps May Stephenson Minor and May Waychoff Younkin were exchanging Christmas cards, too!

Interesting how a fascination with Christmas postcards intertwines with a family history.  Merry Christmas, indeed!

*The winged orb on the back of the card is identified by the Metropolitan Postcard Club of New York City as the trademark for Samuel Langford and Company, publishers from 1906-1918.  Accessed on December 16, 2011.

Happy New Year!

A Happy New Year

Postmarked Fort Dodge, Iowa, 1910

May your New Year be filled with elfish jollification! 

Wordless Wednesday: Sunbonnet Babies

This is the way we iron our clothes

Iron our clothes, iron our clothes.

This is the way we iron our clothes,

So early Tuesday morning.

This postcard was found among my grandfather’s collection and is hand postmarked 1907.  Five year old Donald C. Minor received this note from his teenage cousin, Flossie McClure.

The J.I Austen Company of Chicago was but one entity capitalizing on the popularity of Bertha L. Corbett’s “Sunbonnet Babies”.  An accomplished illustrator, Miss Corbett had first drawn the babies, faces hidden, to demonstrate to peers that plenty of expression could be conveyed by a figure alone.  Leaving the Minneapolis School of Fine Arts, Bertha Corbett studied under the great illustrator, Howard Pyle, at the Drexel Academy in Philadelphia.  While perfecting her drawings of children, she was approached by Eulalie Oswood Grover to illustrate her popular primers for children, and in 1902 the Sunbonnet Babies Primer was published to great acclaim.  Soon Bertha Corbett’s babies were being sought by commercial entities to sell all sorts of products.  The images were also used on postcards and quilt patterns as well.

This card is signed by the artist on the far right.

1. Radner, Joan Newlon. Feminist Messages: Coding in Women’s Folk Culture. Urbana: University of Illinois, 1993. 99-100. Google EBooks. Web. May 2, 2012.

2.  Woman’s Who’s Who of America: A Biographical Dictionary of Contemporary Women, 1914-1915. Ed. John W. Leonard. New York: American Commonwealth, 1915. 554. Google EBooks. Web. 2 May 2012.

3.  Buckley, James M., ed. “The Mother of the Sun-bonnet Babies.” The Christian Advocate 82 (1907): 1582-583. Google Ebooks. Web. 2 May 2012.

If I Could Send You a Happy New Year Card, It Would Be. . .

One hundred and one years ago my grandfather, Donald C. Minor, gazed upon this Black-Capped Chickadee.  The four-leaf clovers may have sent him scampering to the window, frustrated by the snow or hard frost that separated him from his own patch of good luck.  January 1, 1911 in southwestern Pennsylvania would have been gray, damp and cold.

It’s been a year of challenges and quite frankly I am glad to see 2011 end.  I like the prospect of saying good bye to unsolved family dilemmas and saying hello to awesome new opportunities or the potential thereof!  Once upon a time, I would have wished friends and neighbors a New Year of warm, solid, predictability and good luck in all their endeavors – and eagerly sent my grandfather’s chickadee to bear that message.

But this year, I yearn for opportunities of innocent jollification and so send these gleeful elves to wish you a New Year full of laughter and affection!  Happy New Year!

A Visit From St. Nicholas

My grandfather was born in 1902, and as a small child was the recipient of many wonderful postcards, including a sizable collection of Christmas greetings.  At least a third of this set portrays the night before Christmas, and specifically the visit from St. Nicholas.  

When I stand at a bank of Christmas cards today, any box featuring Santa will predictably show a jolly, plump, full-bearded man who is dressed in a red, fur trimmed suit.  When I gaze at the cards sent to little Donald Minor, a variety of images are included, representing the diverse origins of the great saint and his gift-giving tradition.  

Several cards take the St. Nicholas tradition of walking from house to house and add some northern climate changes. This gift-giver must trudge through snow in warm fur robes and heavy fur boots.  He is a rather stern looking old man, lean and weathered. 

Another postcard portrays St. Nicholas delivering gifts from his reindeer drawn sleigh – which remains on the ground.  

The American version of the gift-bearing winter saint was most likely brought to the United States by Dutch settlers in eighteenth century New York.  Sinterklaas – Santa Claus – wore a hat and smoked a pipe as he flew over treetops in his wagon to deliver children’s gifts on Christmas Eve.  *¹  That image was expanded upon in Clement C. Moore’s instant classic, the 1823 poem A Visit from St. Nicholas, and entered the seasonal imagery throughout the Victorian era.  American publishers took advantage of the popularity of this Santa Claus when developing their holiday postcard designs at the turn of the 20th century. 


Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; the stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugarplums danced in their heads; and Mama in her kerchief and I in my cap, had just settled down for a long winter’s nap – when out on the lawn there rose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, gave  a luster of midday to objects below; when, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer, with a little old driver so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles hiscoursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted , and called them by name – “Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donder and Blitzen! To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall! Now, dash away! Dash away! Dash away all! “

As the dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, so up to the housetop the coursers they flew, with sleigh full of toys – and St. Nicholas too; and then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

 

As I drew in my head and was turning around, Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot. A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. His eyes how they twinkled! His dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow! The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a little round belly that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.  He was chubby and plump – a right jolly old elf, and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.  He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and filled all the stockings then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose, and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,

“Merry Christmas to all and to all a Good Night!”

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*¹ Irving, Washington. A History of New York from the Beginning of the World to the End of the Dutch Dynasty. Philadelphia: Lea and Blanchard, 1812. 106-07. accessed on line December 21, 2011.

*²Moore, Clement C. ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. Philadelphia: Running Press, 1995.