Save That Button

QUESTION: My father left me his collection of political buttons. While most are from the last few decades, he managed to find some from the early 20th century. What can you tell me about the history of political buttons and are they worth keeping?

ANSWER: With the recent presidential election less than a week old and much of the country in shock over the outcome, it’s no wonder you’re asking about your collection of political buttons. In the past, these

have been a major part of presidential campaigns. But unless people were working for the candidates, were delegates to either party’s conventions, or were party committee members, political memorabilia seemed to be conspicuously absent from this election.

Back in the 1960s and 70s, you couldn’t go anywhere without seeing someone wearing a political button or see a car sporting a bumper sticker for a candidate. With the prominence of television and social media, people didn’t seem to be outwardly showing their support for either Hillary Clinton or Donald Trump—and that’s what tripped up the pollsters. So how important is the campaign button?

The early 20th century saw a greater array of presidential campaign memorabilia than ever before in American history. Presidential hopefuls handed out plates, bandannas, posters, paperweights—and, yes, buttons. Candidates didn’t have the funds available  for radio and television ads back then.

Even today the lure of presidential campaign memorabilia remains for most any pocketbook. Tin tabs for Lyndon Johnson or Nelson Rockefeller go for a dollar or two. Jugate buttons feature images of both the presidential and vice presidential candidates on the same button. A Franklin Roosevelt/James Cox jugate button has sold for as much as $50,000.

One of the treasures of the 1904 campaign effort of Alton Parker and Henry Davis was a jugate paperweight with both a shield and flags in color. That same year the United States Glass Company produced a glass tray with the frosted image of Teddy Roosevelt. The oval-shaped bread plate also bore his campaign slogan, "A Square Deal."

Republicans William Taft and James Sherman offered a unique milk glass bank in 1908. After the election, the red, white and blue containers could be used as banks.

Watch fobs were all the rage in the early 1900s, and most presidential candidates handed them out. In 1908, William Jennings Bryan offered one of the most attractive, with the message, "White House Lock Holds the Key."

Like Bryan, Teddy Roosevelt made use of numerous campaign items during his election efforts. His postcards of 1912 first endorsed William Taft but later his western-style cotton bandanna pledged, "My hat is in the ring." The National Kerchief Company printed thousands of these bandannas for TR's Bull Moose Party convention in 1912. The New York Times carried this account of their impact: A woman stood up and waved a bandanna in the most frantic fashion. The woman was beaming...The woman was Mrs. Teddy Roosevelt!"

Many of the campaign treasures changed as the nation moved into the Roaring Twenties. Lithographed tin trays, paperweights, ribbon badges, and watch fobs were  popular until 1920. After that license plates, tin tabs, pennants, and items of jewelry joined the wide array of election mementos already available.

The campaign of 1920 produced one of the most sought after political items of the century. After years of harmony with Woodrow Wilson, the Democrats had become badly divided by 1920 and didn’t spend much on campaigning. So campaign buttons for James Cox and running mate Franklin Roosevelt, for example, were relatively few. One particular Cox-Roosevelt button brought $5,000 in 1976, $33,000 in 1981, and $50,000 in 1990.

Head gear also grew more colorful in the 1920s. It ranged from a red, white, and blue beanie for Warren Harding in 1920 to a brown derby in behalf of Al Smith whose trademark was such a hat in 1928.

America's increasing preoccupation with the automobile in the 1920s and 1930s gave a natural spin to car-related memorabilia, including bumper stickers.

The market for presidential campaign memorabilia is booming. The most desired campaign buttons sell for lots of money. But those with smaller budgets have plenty of opportunities to buy pieces of electoral history at reasonable prices. Original campaign buttons, including those bearing the likenesses of some of the most popular candidates, sell online for less than $30 dollars each.

And as with all collectibles, it’s better to collect items, in this case buttons, that aren’t mass produced but are from smaller batches and special events. Do you have a button for Hillary Clinton? If so, you had better hold on to it.

Every Car Had Its Mascot

QUESTION: Way back when, my grandfather owned a 1925 Packard. My father says he loved that car, so much so that he removed the hood ornament from it and kept it as a souvenir when the car no longer worked, and he took it to the junkyard. He gave it to my father, who, in turn, gave it to me. It now sits proudly on my desk. It’s a real beauty, but is it worth anything or am I just being sentimental?

ANSWER: Your hood ornament, a Packard cormorant, is something very special. If you haven’t noticed, cars don’t come with them anymore. At the time your grandfather owned his car, hood ornaments were all the rage. Every car had one—some were extremely elaborate, more like works of art.

Collectors refer to these hood ornaments as automobile mascots. They began as radiator caps at the turn of the 20th century. Automakers added decorative touches to differentiate their vehicles from others during an era when there were 3,000 automobile manufacturers in the U.S. There are now only a handful.

Back when drivers had to negotiate muddy roads and weren’t sure if they’d get back home, St. Christopher, the patron saint of travelers, supposedly brought them good luck. He also protected them from robbers, who prayed on unsuspecting motorists. If you owned a car back then, you had some money.

Birds, chosen by auto makers to convey quick flight, became a common ornament theme. Packard chose a cormorant. Ford chose a quail for its Model A’s and Duesenberg, a stylized bird.

Many collectors consider the stork, used by European automaker Hispano-Suiza, to be the most distinctive and collectible. The stork commemorates French World War I ace Joseph Vuillemin, who had a stork painted on his airplane.

Some auto makers chose to use graceful ladies. Moon Motor Co., a now defunct St. Louis manufacturer, had the Greek goddess Diana on its cars to appeal to women. The glass lady hood ornaments crafted by Lalique before World War II are worth $1,000 to $10,000 depending on subject matter, condition and rarity.

Bugatti Royale selected an elephant balancing on a ball to demonstrate agility. World War I ace pilot Eddie Rickenbacher used an airplane mascot before his auto business failed in the 1920s. Chevrolets also sported airplanes in 1932. Designers for the Lincoln chose a greyhound mascot to dispel rumors that the auto was slow.

Some mascots invented in that time still exist, including Mercedes-Benz's three-point star and the Mack Truck bulldog. The height of hood ornament use was the 1920s and early '30s. By the mid-'30s, they began to fade as the Streamline Moderne movement, which emphasized aerodynamics and eschewed features that slowed down vehicles, caught on. But Mercedes held on to its mascot anyway. The company cared more about prestige than it did aerodynamics.

Other ornaments, such as Cadillac’s Lady, Rolls-Royce’s Flying Lady, Packard’s Cormorant, Desoto’s Explorer and Imperial wings, lasted through the 1950s, though they were much smaller than their  predecessors.

Collecting hood ornaments began in the 1940s when the owners of great old cars like the 1920s Rolls and Packards began scrapping them. Some of the first collectors visited junkyards, armed with screwdrivers and pliers, to hunt for mascots among the wrecks, for which they paid a dollar or so. Today, it’s almost impossible to find them in junkyards—junkyard owners know their value. Today, a typical Chevrolet mascot from the 1950s costs $100.