Слава Великому Октябрю!

This is a Soviet greeting card, I suppose, measuring about 6-7/8 inches by 3-3/4 inches. I assume that, since Christmas was illegal, one needed a festive occasion on which to send such a card — and what better occasion than the anniversary (which just happens to be today) of the Octyabrskaya Revolyutsiya! (For you bourgeoisie out there, that’s Russki for “October Revolution.”)

As far as my extremely limited Russian can tell, the caption means, of course, “Glory to Great October.”

What’s really interesting is the “copyright” notice:

The first line is the artist credit: a name that sounds out to something like Lukbyanov.

I’m not sure what the first word is immediately after the copyright symbol. The second word, however, is one that I recognize. It’s pravda. I’m going to guess that copyright was held by the Soviet state, and God help you if you made unlicensed copies.

If you can shed any light on this particular card, then by all means please leave a comment.

This is an unused, pristine linen postcard with absolutely no indication of who published it, or when. Best guess: circa 1945.

Here’s another card for our friend Bert Dresser. While it’s unsigned by the sender and the postmark is illegible, it is hand-dated January 1, 1915. There’s also a very small copyright on the front of the card with the notation “© S. Bergman N.Y. 1912″.

If this were sent today, it would seem to me to be something in the form of a condolence card, but I don’t think that was the case then; it appears to be just a simple “hello”. There isn’t a lot of ink on the postmark, but after some computer enhancement, I believe that the date of the mark is January 25, 1913. The city still isn’t legible, but my best guess is Wendell, Massachusetts. I have another card for Bert Dresser, apparently from the same sender and also with an illegible postmark, but it is hand-dated January 1, 1915.

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 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.