This is the first time I’ve posted a view of my own town; I can’t imagine why that’s so except that I have so many cards from everywhere from which to choose!  Then I realize that a card showing a view that I see almost every day will seem as exotic to one of my postcard friends as their postcards seem to me.

This is a linen postcard, probably from the early to mid-1940s, of what was then the United States Post Office and Federal Building in beautiful downtown Gainesville, Georgia.  It’s still the Federal Building today and is also the Federal Courthouse, but the Postal Service moved out some time ago.  Today, there are four post offices in Gainesville; the main post office was built in the 1970s, and there are two more (and newer) branch offices along with a very new and very large carrier annex.

You’ll note that there’s a sign showing that street in front of the building was US Highway 23; today, it’s a narrow, poorly maintained one-way local street that leads to the downtown square, but back then it was one of the main highways to Atlanta.  Oddly enough, just the other day as I was standing near this spot, a very elderly gentleman asked me for directions to 23 and I had to think for a minute — US 23 in this part of Georgia is usually referred to by its other name of Interstate 985.  It turns out that he didn’t want directions to 23 at all, but to US 129, which is one of the main roads through town — but apparently he first came to know it as US 23, and that’s how he remembered it.  (If you don’t live in the US, you should understand that our numbered highway systems are generally superb, but that the numbers shift from time to time depending on when newer, better roads are built, what roads the federal government has the facilities to maintain, and which politicians can funnel those federal maintenance dollars to their own districts.)

Here’s a modern view I took recently from the same vantage point.  Kind of makes you wish for the good old days, doesn’t it?  Maybe you can find some at the other blogs celebrating Postcard Friendship Friday.

Postcard Friendship Friday once again brings us a card exchanged by postcard friends from long ago.  This card was sent to Kay Anthony on 7 October 1946 from Beason, Illinois, from her postcard pal Mrs. Logan Edwards.  Mrs. Edwards writes:

“This is a card I got in North Dakota as we traveled to the West Coast by train. We were gone right at five weeks and I will never forget the lovely scenery. We went as far north as Vancouver B.C. and as far south as San Diego, Cal. Our relatives out west showed us such as nice time.”

This is a Curteich “C. T. American Art” postcard, number 103046-N, and it’s a linen postcard, though the card stock is heavier than typical of these types of cards.  The serial number indicates that it’s a reprint of an original run, and records weren’t kept of those types of runs; I can tell, however, that the original run was made in 1925.

The history of the building itself shows that, the more things change, the more things stay the same.  In 1919, the North Dakota Legislature granted an appropriation of $200,000 (adjusted for inflation, that’s about $2.44 million) to construct a building as a memorial to those who fell during the Great War (that is, World War I).  Consequently, some committee sat around for several months trying to decide what sort of design they wanted and, time being money, they decided to hurry up and get the basement poured while they finally got around to telling the architect how it should look.  Construction of the basement alone wound up using most of the appropriation, and so an additional appropriation of $150,000 was requested — in other words, the building went over budget by about 75%.  But why should the government care?  Hey, it wasn’t their money.

At a glance, I would have thought that this was a photochrome postcard from the 1970s; it’s standard-sized (3½” x 5½”), and the photo shows a lot of older cars in the parking lot.  But this Butterfly Palace Butterfly Place in Westford, Massachusetts has only been around since September of 1990:

“It is presently (sic) the only permanent seasonal indoor facility of its kind. Open from mid-April to mid-October. It features North American butterflies in its 3100 sq. ft. flight area. At any given time, the atrium contains up to 400 butterflies representing as many as 30 or more species. The full life cycle of butterflies and many colorful moths can be observed close-up.”

Thanks to Fred for putting so much thought into his choice of postcards to send to me; I like it very much.

This Tichnor Bros. postcard is literally like new, despite dating from about the mid-1940s. Here’s what the card has to say about Florida Southern College: “A four year accredited coeducational college established in 1885 and located in the heart of the citrus belt in beautiful central Florida. Students from 36 states and 14 countries study here in a year-round delightful climate.”

As one might guess from looking at the building, it was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. In fact, Wright designed his “Child of the Sun” campus and all of the buildings on it in 1939, and envisioned that construction would take about three years. Male students were admitted to the college with the understanding that their tuition would be paid in the form of construction labor. Unfortunately, World War II intervened, causing both a shortage of labor and an increase in the cost of building materials. However, the female students were able to complete many of the buildings while the men went off to war.

Since 1992, this building has served as the campus’s Visitor Center. Oddly enough, the college does not have a school of architecture.

This is an incredibly well preserved postcard, from Kay Anthony’s collection. The postcard would seem to agree with me: “A remarkable view of the downtown section of New York City’s world-famous skyline, a truly awe-inspiring sight.” The card was published by Alfred Mainzer, 118 East 28th Street, New York 16, New York.

This real photo postcard (RPPC) is indeed an actual photograph, with postcard markings stamped on the back. The stampbox indicates that the paper was made by a company called AZO and, based on the stampbox’s particular design, the date of manufacture can be narrowed down to sometime between 1904 and 1918. Unfortunately, it is hard to narrow it down any further with any degree of certainty.

The detail at right of the three people in the photograph is exactly a one inch square. After putting this detail through several filters and enhancements, I am reasonably sure that the folks pictured are African-Americans. Click on the image for yourself to see a larger version.

“The original construction began in 1787 and was completed in 1792. The original structure was remodeled in 1835, 1873, 1909, and 1925. The building was restored in 1972 and 1976 and stands on the site of the 1722 Court House rededicated July 3, 1976. The State House is located on the green.” Published by the Traub Company of Baltimore, Maryland.

The course of this conflict is not known, yet its outcome is certain. Freedom and fear, justice and cruelty, have always been at war, and we know that God is not neutral between them. — George W. Bush, September 20, 2001

An interesting feature of this card is that the image on the front is off-center. Prior to 1907, when it was illegal to write anything but the destination address on the back of the card, publishers often left white space on the front to allow a message to be written. But this card was posted in 1955, and was probably published around the same time.

The really interesting feature, however, is the message. Our suitor, Donald, writes to one “Mademoiselle” Gail Bautam of Bloomingdale, New Jersey: “My deerest one: Say, you, my aunt Esther tole me youse have annodder feller, you fickle but booful girl. Now, I’m jest about thru wit youse, but i still love youse. Avec mon amour, Donald.” Doubtless they married and had silly children.

This is a beautiful, large-letter linen postcard in pristine condition (other than some fading due to age). Large letter postcards usually begin with “Greetings from…” and have various scenes of the location in each letter of the place name. If you’ve ever seen the album art from Bruce Springsteen’s Greetings from Asbury Park, N.J., it’s another great example. (I have that album on vinyl.)

Large-letter postcards are often highly prized by collectors, and as such are generally priced fairly high.

This card was made by the Eastern Photo Litho Company of Lowell, Massachusetts, and published by “Switzer Card Service, Watertown 72, Mass.” The use of the postal zone number places manufacture after 1943, and I’d be surprised if this card were manufactured any later than 1945.

A Curt Teich card (number 2DK-1520), published in 1962; it was actually made in the USA and distributed by an outfit in Buffalo, NY. “One of the world’s most spectacular observation points, the tower stands 670 feet above the base of the Niagara River and gives an unsurpassed view of both the American and Canadian Falls as well as a breathtaking 5,000 square mile panorama of the entire area. The seven-story crown building offers both open and glass enclosed observation decks plus several outstanding restaurants.”

The varnish on the front of this unused card has yellowed quite a bit over the years; the (unvarnished) back of the card is still pretty close to the original white. Not visible on the scan and only barely visible on the original is the fact that the varnish has cracked along most of its surface, resembling fine wood grains that run in various directions.

This is a large-letter linen postcard, another personal message from Daisy Boyd to Great-Grandma Lottie. It was posted from Spartanburg, South Carolina on May 24, 1953. Daisy writes (typos in the original): “Dear Mrs. Smith. Hope your both feeling fine. We feel some better Mr. Boyd just had to get away with his folks. Haveing nice time picnicks & fishing eaten big ones. Will see you all some time this summer. Mrs. H. Boyd.”

From these postcards from Daisy Boyd, it sounds as if Homer (Mr. Boyd) used to love to leave Pennsylvania on a moment’s notice and go see the old folks down in South Cackalacky.

According to this card, “The King Cole Hotel, resplendent in its setting of six acres of palm grove grandeur, has the relaxing atmosphere of an exclusive country club, still it is right in the heart of Miami Beach.” Here’s the kicker: in red capital letters under this description is the added notation, “Now Miami Heart Institute.” Makes sense to me. Why lie in a hospital bed in Cedars-Sinai after that heart attack, when you can go the fancy-schmancy hospital in Miami?

Even better is the message on the card. This was sent off to The Price is Right in 1957 as a viewer entry to a Travel Showcase contest.

As I recall, I got this card among a medium-sized lot of cards in a junk shop in Florida. How did the card get back to Florida? Did Bob Barker send his minions to inform Mrs. Sherman that she won the prize? If not, how did the card get into the marketplace? Are Regis and Kelly making a quick buck selling the cards that my wife sends in to them?

Lest there be any doubt: The Cold War did not end, it was won, and it was won by these guys. The aircraft at the top of the postcard is a B-52, while the headquarters building is pictured below.

I was stationed here from August 1986 through November 1989, and worked in this building (though not the part that you can see above ground in this photo). I loved the work; it was always comforting to know just how many minutes I had to live (usually about 12) on the off chance that the Soviets decided that their submarines were getting too heavy and needed to release some of their missiles. But Bellevue, Nebraska was not the most exciting locale for a young airman.

We had a saying about Offutt Air Force Base: once you get on it, you never get Offutt — but I needed to. Finally, I decided that the only way I was going to PCS out of there was to put an 88 on my dream sheet — that is, volunteer worldwide. I quickly received new orders — for Southwest Asia.

“…Located in the health-giving southeast coast… Situated along the Boulevard to the Beach in a beautiful three acre Park of Tropical Palms, Shrubbery, Flowers and Fruits… Surf Bathing… Boating… Fishing… Golfing… Shuffle-Board and other Sports for your entertainment and happiness… All outside rooms with private bath or shower… Rates $2.50 up.” Oh, and it was also AAA approved.

This “Genuine Curteich Chicago ‘C.T. Photo-Colorit’ Post Card” is in pristine condition. The production number of 8A-H2121 indicates that it was manufactured in 1938, and the stampbox asks you to “place one cent stamp here.” I spotted this card on eBay in early 2003, and bought it because it’s such a beautiful card, and because the subject was within driving distance of my home at the time. I paid $1.50.

Here’s the Dania Beach Hotel today, still in operation (so far as I know), looking a little worse for wear, and doubtless charging more than $2.50 for a room:

Twenty-six units (unités), air conditioned (climatisé), licensed TV (licencié), and a dining room (salle à manger), it’s no wonder that my grandparents couldn’t resist staying here. Judging from the notes on the back, Grandma picked up this deckled card at the motel and used it to calculate mileage on their trip (presumably) to the Montreal Expo, year undetermined. (I remember seeing some ancient souvenirs as a child, so it must be so.)

It looks like she was backtracking, as the stop at the motel was last on her list. There are a number of confusing things about her entries:

• For August 7, she writes “M.H. to Longueuil (Quebec), 330″, which is just outside of Montreal. As far as I can tell, there’s nothing that’s 330 miles away that would have been of interest. At first I thought she might have meant “my house”, but her house in South Jersey was about 450 miles away — and it doesn’t make sense that my grandfather would drive 120 miles and then stop for the day. They might have stopped to visit some of his relatives in North Jersey, but they would still have been more than 330 miles from Longueuil — and I can’t think of anyone whose initials were M.H., nor do I see any towns on the map that might fit.
• On August 8, they were at the Expo.
• For August 9, she writes, “To Quebec, 174″. Odd, considering that they were already in Quebec. Perhaps sightseeing?
• At last, they arrive in Drummondville on the 10th, some 159 miles later. Not sure what was worth seeing here.

Unfortunately, it’s a mystery without a solution, as neither of them are around to ask.

This may look like a real photo postcard, but it’s actually a black-and-white photochrome postcard with a deckled edge. It was published by Dexter Press of Pearl River, New York.

Owens-Illinois was a key place in my family’s history. This from the obituary of my grandmother, Mildred Cossaboon, who passed away on 27 March 2008:

She was the daughter of the late Philip Nelson Smith and the late Charlotte Blanch (nee Arison) Smith. Born in Flatwoods, Fayette County, Pa., on June 30, 1923, she attended grade school in Franklin Township, Pa., and graduated from Dunbar High School, in 1942. Mrs. Cossaboon came, as did many others, to work at the Owens-Illinois Glass Company, in 1943.

It was there that she met my grandfather, a glassblower, and the rest is history.

Her cousin, John Hodinka (“Sonny”), also came to work there after his service with the 82nd Airborne Division. He’s a great man who is very proud of his service (and rightfully so), and would love to jump out of a perfectly good airplane even today.

Not surprisingly, he’s enamored with the Band of Brothers miniseries. He told me that he was watching the interviews and that one of the members of Easy Company was talking about how he went to work for Owens-Illinois in Bridgeton. (That man was Carwood Lipton, played in the movie by Donnie Wahlberg.) Sonny told me with surprise, “I worked with that son-of-a-bitch for five years and he never said a word.”