Wild Postcards

“THE SENSATION OF THE YEAR. FIRST PRIZE — At Paris Salon, June 1912, for which the Artist won the medal of honor, the highest recognition which any Artist can attain in France. The picture shows a rarely beautiful blond figure posed in the waters of the sea of Brittany an an hour when it glows like a great fire opal.” I had to think about this description for a while. I don’t think the writer means that the figure is only beautiful on rare occasions; I think he means that the beauty itself is rare.

Although Chabas won the Medal of Honor in France, the painting attracted little attention. Thus, he sent it to America to attract a buyer, where it was spotted in a gallery window by Anthony Comstock, moral crusader and founder of the New York Society for the Prevention of Vice. As a result of the publicity, bright boys began reproducing the image on everything from cigar boxes to calendars to postcards — one of which you see above, contemporary to the scandal. Thanks to Comstock’s political appointment as an agent of the Postal Service, the postcard itself was prohibited in the mails; consequently, this card is unused.

This sepia-toned reproduction does not do justice to the painting. I purchased this card in an antique shop for a dollar. Below is a representation of the entire painting.

“THE SENSATION OF THE YEAR. FIRST PRIZE — At Paris Salon, June 1912, for which the Artist won the medal of honor, the highest recognition which any Artist can attain in France. The picture shows a rarely beautiful blond figure posed in the waters of the sea of Brittany an an hour when it glows [...]

This is a Christmas postcard sent to my great-grandfather, in care of his father, James Henry Smith. It was sent perhaps as early as (but no earlier than) 1907. The sender is unknown, and there is no message.

This card has some unique features. For one thing, there is no indication (that I can see, even after close examination of the high-resolution scan) that there was ever a stamp placed on this card. There is a cancellation mark over the stampbox itself, with the number “1″ breaking one of the lines of the mark. Did this number denote that the one-penny postage had been paid? I have not seen another instance like it among my collection.

There is also the publisher’s mark: the notation “SL & CO” within a circle, and the circle with angel’s wings on either side. This is the mark of S. Langsdorf and Company, of New York and Germany. The card, like most pre-World War I cards, was printed in Germany and presumably exported to the New York office for sale in the United States.

There are several cards without messages in the collection (which will be posted, eventually), and many of those were apparently hand-delivered — probably similar to the way that the younger kids exchange Valentines today.

This is a Christmas postcard sent to my great-grandfather, in care of his father, James Henry Smith. It was sent perhaps as early as (but no earlier than) 1907. The sender is unknown, and there is no message. This card has some unique features. For one thing, there is no indication (that I can see, [...]

This card, from my great-grandfather’s collection, brings tidings of the new year of 1913 to Mr. John H. Greim of 715 Dick Street in Reading, Pennsylvania, from Emma Hinline. Alas, Dick Street no longer seems to exist in Reading, probably because eighth-graders kept stealing the street signs.

To my knowledge, Mr. Greim is no relation; he was probably an associate of Great-Grandpa’s dad, James Henry Smith, and passed the card along. Mr. Greim thoughtfully put the date of receipt (12/28/1912) on the front of the card, as the postmark bears no year. He was also kind enough to fill in Emma’s surname, as she signed the card “Emma H.”

Emma writes that she “Received your card. My head is slowly getting better. It may be a week or two more before it is quite well.” Of course, if she had loosened her corset, the blood would have drained from her head faster.

This embossed card was printed in Germany, which is fairly common of cards in the years leading up to World War I — after which the supply from Germany dried up. Also, one must flip this card on the long end, rather than on the short end, as with cards today.

Notice that this postcard was postmarked December 27 at 3:30 PM in Nazareth, PA and, if we are to believe the notation on the front, made it 50 miles to Reading the next day. Over turn-of-the-century country roads. For one cent’s worth of postage. Note to the Postal Service: shape up.

The 1920 census notes that Mr. Greim was 40 years old, making him 32 or so in 1912. While he apparently sent a nice card to Emma, he became a little more suspicious as he grew older. In 1927 (according to the Library of Congress), he dropped a note to President Calvin Coolidge, questioning whether or not Silent Cal’s endorsement of Webster’s Dictionary was unsolicited, and whether or not there was any consideration received:

I wonder what he had against the Webster people.

This card, from my great-grandfather’s collection, brings tidings of the new year of 1913 to Mr. John H. Greim of 715 Dick Street in Reading, Pennsylvania, from Emma Hinline. Alas, Dick Street no longer seems to exist in Reading, probably because eighth-graders kept stealing the street signs. To my knowledge, Mr. Greim is no relation; [...]