Keeping the Railroads on Time

 

QUESTION: My grandfather worked as a conductor on the Pennsylvania Railroad. When he died some years ago, I inherited his pocket watch. For a long time, I thought it was just another old pocket watch. Then a friend, who’s father was a watch repairman, told me it was a special kind of pocket watch—a railroad pocket watch. Other than that, he didn’t know why it was so special. Can you give me some insight into antique and vintage railroad watches?

ANSWER: The answer to your question goes back to the last decade of the 19th century. On April 19, 1891, a train engineer's watch stopped for four minutes and then started again. This temporary mechanical failure resulted in a train wreck that killed nine people in Kipton, Ohio. The railroads set up a commission to create new standards for the railroad pocket watch, to be used by all railroads.

A railroad grade pocket watch was a watch that a particular railroad approved for use by its engineers and conductors. 

The Railroad Commission required every engineer to have his pocket watch inspected regularly and to submit a certificate stating its reliability to his supervisors. When there was only one track for trains barreling in both directions, being on time was a matter of life and death. As the Kipton wreck proved, an engineer's railroad watch being off by as little as four minutes could mean disaster.

The new standards dictated that a railroad pocket watch had to have at least 15 jewels. After 1886, the number of jewels increased. They also had to be accurate to within 30 seconds per week, as well as have a white dial—although the railroads allowed silvered dials until around 1910—with black Arabic numbers for each minute delineated; adjust to five positions, and be temperature compensated.

Although a pocket watch’s size, ranging from 0 to 23, didn’t refer to its width or length or casing but rather to the size of its movement, to meet railroad requirements, a watch's movement had to be either a size 16 (1 7/10 inches) or a size 18 (1 23/30inches).

Manufacturers sometimes broke the rules and made railroad watches with Roman numerals. The last two requirements were critical. As the early watchmakers discovered, not only could cold and heat cause a watch’s movement to slow or speed up, but so did the watch's position. Imagine a conductor trying to carry a watch in one position all the time, especially while working on a train. Railroad watches had to stand up to constant abuse from the jarring and swaying of early trains.

Contrary to common belief, there were many regulations in place before railroad officials commissioned Webb C. Ball to create a standard set of railroad watch qualifiers in the 1890’s. 

Before then, and until the entire railroad industry accepted Ball’s standards, different railroads had different standards for the watches their crews used. One line might have had a list of accepted makes and models while another might have only listed necessary features or timekeeping performance thresholds. This made evaluating older watches as railroad grade a difficult task, because a watch may have met the standards of one company but not another. 

As the rail industry grew in the United States, the number of active trains grew with it. In order to use a particular track efficiently, railroads had to create time schedules identifying when each section of that track was safe to use. The timekeeping accuracy of the engineer’s and conductor’s watches was crucial if two trains were moving in opposite directions. If one of the two engineers’ or conductors’ watches were keeping bad time, a collision could occur. Railroad watches became known as “standard” watches because they met a railroad’s standard of timekeeping.

Companies like Waltham, Elgin, and Hamilton made the “best” railroad watches after 1900. An important part of standard watch regulations included service intervals and testing, but there was also a list of features that almost all railroad watches shared. 

The most prominent feature of 1900’s railroad watches was their lever actuated setting mechanisms–commonly referred to as "lever-set.". Most watches were put in time-setting mode by pulling the crown, or winding knob, away from the watch, then pushing the crown back towards the watch to return to winding mode—referred to as "pendant-set."

A lever-set mechanism required the user to remove the bezel of the watch—the convex glass protecting the dial---and engage a lever to place the watch in setting mode. This tedious process of removing the bezel had a very important purpose. It ensured that the time on the watch was never accidentally changed by catching the winding knob on a pocket or any number of other unintentional situations.

Another important feature of railroad watches was their big, bold, black, Arabic numerals on highly contrasting white enamel dials with large bold hands. This feature made telling the time as clear and easy as possible while creating a distinctive and functional railroad watch design.

Mechanically speaking, almost all 1900’s railroad watches shared a number of performance and reliability enhancing features. Most had a fixed regulator to avoid timekeeping variation from impact, a double roller balance wheel to avoid going out of action, 19 or more jewels to reduce friction and increase consistency of the gear train, timekeeping adjustment in five or more positions to make sure the watch kept accurate time regardless of its orientation, and adjustment for temperature to ensure accuracy in a variety of climates. Many railroad watches had solid gold or gold plated gear trains and jewel settings to reduce the effects of magnetism as well as reduce tarnishing, and later watches had features such as magnetically resistant balance wheels.

Although there were many other fine pocket watches made in America, the quality of the workmanship made them second only to chronometers for being precise—they had to be.

To read more articles on antiques, please visit the Antiques Articles section of my Web site.  And to stay up to the minute on antiques and collectibles, please join the over 30,000 readers by following my free online magazine, #TheAntiquesAlmanac. Learn more about "Coffee--The Brew of Life" in the 2023 Summer Edition, online now. And to read daily posts about unique objects from the past and their histories, like the #Antiques and More Collection on Facebook.

Buttering Up!

 

QUESTION: I first became introduced to little butter dishes, known as butter pats, while browsing tables at a local flea market. Most of the time, dealers place these in glass cases and unless antiquers look carefully, they can easily be missed. 

ANSWER: In the United States and many parts of Europe, wealthy people who had elaborate dinnerware sets for formal dining used butter pat plates primarily in the 1800s and into the early 1900. Each dinner guest was given his or her own butter pat plate on which to put a pat, or lump, of butter.

Butter pats, manufactured in a variety of designs and shapes by the finest porcelain manufacturies, first appeared in the 1850s and reached the height of popularity between 1880 and 1910, though some restaurants and railroads still used them into the 1950s and 1960s. Although also known as butter chips, butters, butter pat plates, or individual butters, they’re commonly referred to as butter pats.

And no proper Victorian table could be set without them. The Victorians loved excess and nowhere was this more evident than in their table settings. During this age of elegance, each kind of food had its own piece of china or silver, and butter wasn’t any different.

Victorians folded a serving a bread, often consumed without butter, hidden in the folds of a napkin at each place setting. If a meal course required bread to be buttered, servants placed individual miniature plates above and slightly to the left of center of the service plates. 

However, butter during the Victorian Age wasn’t commercially processed but made at home. Victorian ladies or their servants labored hard, creating butter in a wooden or stone churn, shaping it with a paddle and squeezing it to remove excess moisture. They then placed the newly churned butter into a mold or shaped it into a mound with wooden paddles. 

The molds typically held a pound of butter. Either the lady of the house or her servants cut the butter into smaller pieces  to serve for special dinners. Sometimes, they shaped the small pats of butter into unusual forms, such as rosettes. Very wealthy families often used decorative individual hand-carved butter stamps featuring the family crest or a special design. 

Made for holding an individual servings of butter, the butter pat reached its zenith during the Victorian era when ornate elegance dictated that every place setting at the dining table consist of several dishes for different foods. As a necessary part of a complete set of fine china, dinnerware manufacturers crafted butter pats with the same attention to detail, and by the turn of the 20th century, they produced them in an array of designs, patterns, and shapes—round, fan-shaped, shell-shaped, as well as the more common square. They often decorated with fish, fowl, and floral motifs, making them into miniature works of art.

Eventually, the extravagance of the Victorian Era gave way to more informal dining. This created a need for durable and practical everyday dishware. Potteries needed to destroy outdated molds and streamline production. This included butter pats, no longer required on the informal dinner table.

Butter itself was often molded or stamped to form patterns, such as flowers, on the butter’s surface. Each individual lump of butter was then placed on a butter pat plate belonging to a specific guest.

Butter pat plates produced in the 1800s and early 1900s were primarily made out of either porcelain or sterling silver, and some made of glass. They were produced as part of dinner service sets or to match existing dinner service sets. Each tiny plate was typically less than three inches square and held either one or two pats of butter at a time.

The colors and designs on the butter pat plates also got more elaborate as time went on. Floral designs were quite common. In some cases, the manufacturers shaped and colored the butter pats to resemble flowers. Square or round ones featured pictures of flowers in their centers or floral patterns around their edges. Other popular butter pat themes included animals and birds.

Butter pat patterns also changed as advertising methods evolved. Some later butter pats had pictures and slogans on them, advertising businesses, events, or advancements of some kind.

Many of the most popular butter pat producers were the “big name” porcelain producers which were historically popular for their dinnerware and decorative pieces. Haviland, Majolica, and Waverly were the most popular. Of Haviland’s up to 60,000 different patterns, most included butter pats as part of a place setting. However, there were many companies which each produced anywhere from a few to dozens of patterns made from many different materials.

Although butter pat manufacturers mass-produced them, some were more unusual. For example, several French and German butter pat manufacturers produced butter pats in the 1800s that artists hand-painted later with elaborate designs and patterns. Some of them even featured hand-painted portraits of people.

With the advent of the modern lifestyles of the 20th century. Butter pats, along with many other forms of formal Victorian dinnerware, lost their appeal. Bread and butter plates, averaging 6 inches in diameter, eventually replaced the butter pat.

Though Wedgwood and Royal Doulton still produce butter pats, they only do so for luxury hotels and First Class airline service. 

To read more articles on antiques, please visit the Antiques Articles section of my Web site.  And to stay up to the minute on antiques and collectibles, please join the over 30,000 readers by following my free online magazine, #TheAntiquesAlmanac. Learn more about art glass in the 2022 Summer Edition, with the theme "Splendor in the Glass," online now. And to read daily posts about unique objects from the past and their histories, like the #Antiques and More Collection on Facebook.

Symbols of Worldliness

 

QUESTION: Back in the late 1960s, I made a road trip across the United States, stopping at numerous national parks and monuments. Early on, I noticed that on the desk in the visitor centers was a display of travel stickers for various national parks. So I decided to purchase one for each park and monument I visited, as well as other places like cities and museums. By the time my trip was over I had amassed quite a collection. Are these travel stickers collectible? 

ANSWER: While you collected travel stickers, their original use was to affix to luggage as a way of telling the world where a traveler had been. During the Golden Age of Travel during the second half of the 19th century, sticker labels like these appeared on  steamer trunks. Colorful mementos of foreign locales, luggage labels can take us back to a time of grand hotels, luxury trains, and elegant ships.

Originally, they were a way of identifying a guest’s luggage when they arrived at one of those posh resorts. Forerunners of baggage tags, travel labels became the hallmark of a world traveler—a symbol of worldliness.

Often designed in the artistic style of the time, many of luggage labels are exquisite examples of the Art Nouveau and Art Deco styles. However, even the best artists didn’t take such work too seriously. Prominent poster and graphic artists who affixed their name to larger works frequently left their luggage label commissions unsigned, but those which had been signed by the artist are the most valuable. 

By the mid-19th century, the Industrial Revolution's creation of wealth and more reliable modes of transportation, such as steamships, railroads, and passenger planes inaugurated an explosion in travel. A growing middle class, with access to more leisure time, joined businessmen, diplomats, explorers, and the rich on their travels to locales around the globe.

The earliest examples of hotel luggage labels date to the 1860s when printers produced them in small batches. But production really took off by the end of the 19th century. By that time, many more people were traveling, making the need to identify the hotel that would serve as the final destination for luggage coming off ships and trains a necessity.

To encourage this increased traffic, hotels and transportation companies turned to advertising. Newspaper and magazine ads increased in size and number. Many companies commissioned posters and luggage labels by noted graphic artists. Steamship companies, railroads, airlines, and bellhops at hotels around the world affixed labels to all sorts of luggage from small cases to trunks, proclaiming to all that the luggage’s owner was an adventurer at a time when travel was still not that fast, easy, or inexpensive. In those days, suitcases were rigid, making it easy for bellboys or concierges to stick their labels on.

Besides hotels, other businesses and organizations also employed luggage labels to promote themselves. Airlines like Pan Am began using them as soon as air travel became accessible to travelers around the 1920s. Even restaurants and national parks used them. 

Many of these labels simulated small travel posters but weren’t meant to be permanently preserved. Affixed with gum, it was extremely difficult to remove labels without damaging them, so some travelers would ask for an extra label or two to be tucked into their wallet or journal as a memento of their trip, and it is these specimens that most often turn up in the collectibles markets today. In fact, a piece of antique or vintage luggage covered with labels is often worth more than a comparable piece without.

Regarded by many as miniature works of art, most early labels were actually lithographed, and many bear the printer's imprint. Some travel companies commissioned important illustrators to produce their luggage labels. Dan Sweeney for instance was an American illustrator who contributed illustrations for books, posters, magazines, and luggage labels for the Hong Kong & Shanghai Hotel Group. Italian graphic designer Mario Borgoni was also renowned for his Art Nouveau labels and posters.

Nostalgia is one reason collectors love luggage labels. But even more so because they’re small, easy to store and display, and relatively inexpensive. Collectors have such a variety of designs to choose from that most focus on a particular style like Art Nouveau or Art Deco; a country or transportation company, hotels, a printer like Richter & Company, or a designer like Mario Borgoni. Original luggage labels can be found at flea markets and antique shows, and of course, online. 

The majority of labels sell for under $25, and depending on their rarity, condition, style, and the renown of the illustrator or the hotel or airline, can sell for several hundred. But with such reasonable prices, it pays to be aware of reproductions. A good jeweler's loupe will help distinguish the solid colors of an original lithographed label from the dots of a four-color-process reproduction or the lines of a scanned image. 

Travel stickers slowly started to lose their popularity by the 1960s as soft suitcases began to replace hard luggage, making it harder to stick labels on them.

To read more articles on antiques, please visit the Antiques Articles section of my Web site.  And to stay up to the minute on antiques and collectibles, please join the over 30,000 readers by following my free online magazine, #TheAntiquesAlmanac. Learn more about railroad antiques in "All Aboard!" in the 2021 Summer Edition, online now. And to read daily posts about unique objects from the past and their histories, like the #Antiques and More Collection on Facebook.

The Artful Draw of Citrus Labels

 

QUESTION: While browsing at my local thrift shop the other day, I came across three framed citrus prints, the kind that used to be pasted on citrus shipping crates. I scooped them right up. They’ve made a nice addition to my kitchen. I hadn’t thought much about these labels before I saw these framed ones. Are they collectible? If so, are they worth collecting? I sure would love to add to the three I purchased. 

ANSWER: Citrus labels, once quite common, have long since disappeared. Both California and Florida growers used these labels to identify their products from the 1880s to the 1950s. Pasted on the ends of these wooden crates, these 10” X 11” labels or 5 ½” X 11” strips identified the brand. And today, they’ve become a hot and affordable collectible.

Christopher Columbus first introduced citrus seeds to what’s now Florida in 1493. Ponce de Leon sailed with Columbus and was the first European to explore Florida in 1513, bringing with him citrus seeds and planting them near the settlement of St. Augustine. Spaniards and native Indians continued to grow and cultivate the fruit, as citrus thrived in Florida’s warm climate and sandy soil.

But it took another 300 years before citrus became an industry. By then, newly arriving homesteaders began relocating to Florida, planting citrus trees around their homesteads. Pioneer began selling the fruit, then bringing it to a common location to be transported by steamships. Steamers collected barrels of fruit packed in Spanish moss at various ports along Florida’s coasts and waterways.

It was the coming of the railroads that encouraged the creation of those colorful, imaginative labels. Oranges had been grown for a long time in Florida and even longer in California, but it wasn't until the completion of railroad spur lines that it became possible to ship the perishable citrus fruit nationwide. By 1875, growers began using 90-pound wooden crates. Eager to capture the attention of wholesale buyers in Eastern and Midwestern produce terminals, the growers began pasting eye-catching paper labels to the ends of the crates.

California growers were the first to use color lithography to print their packing labels. And it was from them that the Florida growers began to see how the colorful labels could be used to successfully market their produce. From 1904 until the 1940s, the growers designed citrus labels to differentiate among the competition for a particular grower or shipper. Artists and lithographers collaborated to help buyers remember and identify their brand. 

The old-time produce market was a crowded place, so having labels with eye-appealing, interesting artwork was a must. It's the same rich colors and striking designs that used to grab the attention of the citrus buyers which attract today’s collectors.

Label colors sometimes served another purpose. Each packing house used several different labels, and at some citrus groves the label background colors used were of special significance. Buyers could tell at a glance the grade of the fruit. Blue indicated top quality fruit, red indicated second grade fruit, and yellow or gold indicated  third-grade fruit.

Label art changed with the times. Fruit crate art can be divided into three periods—Naturalism, from 1885 to 1920, Advertising, from 1920 to 1935, and Commercial Art, from 1935 to 1955. In Florida, early labels seemed designed to appeal especially to housewives, with pastel-tinted illustrations depicting flowers or babies. Following these came label illustrations showing Indians, planes, trains, hunting scenes, and pretty women, all directed towards the all-male buyers at Northern auctions.

Many early labels during the Naturalism era were known as "vanity labels" because they depicted the growers themselves, their families, or their orange groves.

In 1915, the general public became aware of vitamins and the health benefits of the orange's Vitamin C content appeared in label art. Labels from the Advertising era promoted the use of orange juice for health, with names like "Juicy-o," "Juice King," and "Full o' Juice.”

Through label design, artists depicted a wide range of subjects, including the romance of Florida with sunsets, sailboats, and “good, healthy living” themes. Scenic views of Florida with orange groves, orange trees, treasure chests filled with oranges furthered the image of the fruit. The Golden Sunset brand portrayed palm trees and a warm, glowing sunset. Consumers and buyers were getting the message about the good life in Florida which also gave a boost to tourism.

Label artists also pictured Florida flowers. The Gardenia Brand and the Azalea Brand adorned Jacksonville’s W.H. Clark Fruit label. The Kissimmee Citrus Grower’s Association used the Florida Cowboy brand.

Themes of wildlife were also popular with birds, alligators, and even fish. Brooksville’s Blue Heron Brand portrayed the majestic Florida bird and Frostproof’s Ibis Brand displayed the pink-billed white bird. St. Petersburg’s Milne-O’Berry Packing Company developed a label with the classic tarpon called the Silver King Brand.

Citrus labels even promoted Indian River’s Harvey’s Groves, depicting a fertile and luscious growing region. The Polk O Dot Brand created a label with a golden-haired child from the Polk County Citrus Exchange.

It was in the 1940's that the packing houses in both Florida and California ended the 60-odd year tradition of marking their products with colorful labels on the ends of wooden crates. With the advent of World War II, wood used to build crates became both scarce and expensive

By the time the 1950's rolled around, most growers and packers tossed away or burned their unused labels. Who would have dreamed that those old scraps of paper would someday be collectors' items?

To read more articles on antiques, please visit the Antiques Articles section of my Web site.  And to stay up to the minute on antiques and collectibles, please join the over 30,000 readers by following my free online magazine, #TheAntiquesAlmanac. Learn more about railroad antiques in "All Aboard!" in the 2021 Summer Edition, online now. And to read daily posts about unique objects from the past and their histories, like the #Antiques and More Collection on Facebook.

Monopoly---The Early Days

QUESTION: I recently purchased a box lot at a country auction. In it I discovered a piece of oil cloth on which seems to be drawn a game board much like the one used for Monopoly. However, the names of the streets aren’t the same. Can you tell me anything about this?

ANSWER: What you’ve uncovered is an old game board from the early days of Monopoly.  Before Charles Darrow of Philadelphia commercialized the game and sold the rights to Parker Brothers, people made up their own game boards and used odds and ends for playing pieces.

It all began when Elizabeth (Lizzie) Magie Phillips created a game called “The Landlord’s Game” in 1904. As a proponent of the economic ideas of Henry George, she designed her game to teach the single-tax theory as an antidote to the evils inherent in monopolistic land ownership. It caught on with college students who played it in their dormitory rooms. But since they were often low on cash, they made their own boards.

The Landlord’s Game came in two parts: The first was like Monopoly, a game in which there’s only one winner. But in the second part the game employs the same capitalistic principles but mixes them with a healthy dose of tax reform, to prevent the evils of monopolistic ownership, and then transforms all the players into enlightened winners.

While the game board resembles the one for Monopoly, the names, drawings, colors and the like used on it are different. It’s painted with blocks for rental properties such as "Poverty Place" (rent $50), "Easy Street" (rent $100) and "Lord Blueblood's Estate " (no trespassing - go to jail). There are banks, a poorhouse, and railroads and utilities such as the "Soakum Lighting System" ($50 for landing it) and the "PDQ Railroad" (fare $100). And, of course, there’s the famous "Jail" block. Players could only rent properties on Phillips's board, not acquire them. Otherwise, there’s little difference between The Landlord’s Game and the Monopoly of today.

After Phillips published her game in 1923, it became popular as a grass roots movement. One of the people who became addicted to the game was Ruth Hoskins, a young Quaker woman from Indiana who went to teach at the Atlantic City Friends School in the Fall of 1929. Earlier that year, she learned to play a version of the Landlord's Game, called Auction Monopoly, from her brother, who learned it at college. Early in 1930, Hoskins taught it to her fellow teacher Cyril Harvey and his wife, Ruth, and the Harveys played it with their friends Jesse and Dorothea Raiford. It was Ruth Harvey who drew the first Atlantic City Monopoly board with Atlantic City street names.

The Harveys lent their games to Quakers staying at Atlantic City hotels and also taught their relatives, Ruth and Eugene Raiford, who, in turn taught their friend, Charles Todd, a manager of one of the hotels. Todd then taught the game to his hotel guests Esther and Charles Darrow.



Darrow liked the game so much, he enhanced the design and made 5,000 sets by hand in his basement. He sold these to Wanamaker’s, a highly regarded Philadelphia department store, as well as F.A.O. Schwartz, New York’s famous toy store. A friend of Sally Barton, the wife of the president of Parker Brothers, told her about this new game and the rest, as they say, is history.

The royalties from sales of Monopoly soon made Darrow a millionaire and newspapers touted Darrow as the inventor of Monopoly. And while he made lots of money from it, all he did was organize the game and sell it. Since Phillips had actually created a different game, albeit similar, she had no rights to the game of Monopoly, which had been developed by many people over time, much like the Linux operating system for computers.


Learn more about the game of Monopoly by reading "Pass Go and Collect on Early Monopoly Games" in #TheAntiquesAlmanac.

To read more articles on antiques, please visit the Antiques Article section of my Web site.  And to stay up to the minute on antiques and collectibles, please join the other 24,000 readers by following my free online magazine, #TheAntiquesAlmanac. Learn more about vintage games in the 2019 Holiday Edition, "Games, Games, and More Games," online now. And to read daily posts about unique objects from the past and their histories, like the #Antiques and More Collection on Facebook.

Heraldic Mementos

QUESTION: On a recent trip to England, I came across some small ceramic objects with heraldic crests on them. At first I thought that they were family crests, but upon closer examination, I realized each piece, along with its crest, came from a different English town. I bought several of these “souvenirs” to take home as mementos of my trip. I’d really like to collect them but know nothing about them. Can you tell me how old these pieces might be and if it would be possible to collect them since I live in the U.S.?

ANSWER:  Heraldic souvenirs have become very popular with collectors in recent years, and not just those on the other side of the pond. While you may have to look a bit harder for them over here, you will find them, especially because you can purchase them directly from British sellers online.

These heraldic souvenirs became popular as a result of a tremendous expansion in travel during the second half of the 19th century. This occurred partly because of the rise in incomes which allowed more people to afford to travel and the greatly improved technology in rail and steamer transportation. The latter became so affordable that just about anyone could travel around the country. As more people traveled, the demand for attractive mementos skyrocketed.

William Henry Goss was the first manufacturer to produce heraldic souvenirs. In fact, many manufacturers made them over 70 years, much to the joy of traveling Victorians.

Goss met W.F. Copeland, one of the owners of the Copeland Spode China Factory. Copeland hired him as a clerk in his London warehouse in 1852, and the following year Goss moved to the factory headquarters at Stoke in Staffordshire. By 1857 he had become the chief modeler for the company.

It was the modelers who designed the originals or models of all of the various pottery and porcelain objects that Goss manufactured, ranging from simple utilitarian ware like plates to elaborate ornamental ware such as portrait busts. In 1858, Goss left Copeland and soon had established his own company which produced common ceramic objects for the next 20 years, including terra cotta ware and Parian portrait busts.


The innovation that was to make the firm famous came in the early 1880s. Goss produced small replicas of objects associated with particular places and placed on them the local coat of arms. Wealthy families had been ordering hand-decorated sets of china with the family arms on them for quite some time, so armorial ware wasn’t something new. What was so novel about Goss’ pieces was that he made them inexpensively for ordinary people.

Goss was always particular about the design standards of his wares, and he thoroughly researched both the original historical artifact of each model and the coat of arms it was to bear.  He used armorial reference books to insure that the crests were authenti. Goss also used his Parian porcelain formula for his crested ware, permitting very elaborate sculptural qualities and also making it possible to keep pieces eggshell thin.

To keep standards high, Goss wanted to have only one object sold as a souvenir for any particular place, and also to sell that object solely in the place whose crest it carried. To insure that there was no "cheating" by retailers, the firm had only one agent in each town and required that the agent sell Goss ware and nothing else. Soon Goss made a variety of objects available to local agents, although for a time the crest still had to be that of the place where they were to be sold. If a person wanted an object with the arms of, say, Chester, he or she had to travel there to purchase it.

The production process was rather straight forward. First, a modeler sculpted the model for each object in clay. Then another worker made a plaster-of-paris mold of it. This process often damaged the original model beyond repair. Yet another worker cast a duplicate of the original mold, and used this piece, called the block, to make the master mold which, in turn, he used to produce working models from which the working molds could be made.

Goss used plaster of paris for molds because it absorbed water fast. A worker would pour clay that had been mixed with water to the consistency of cream, called slip, into a mold. Soon, the slip in contact with the mold would dry, and then he would pour the remainder off, creating a very thin clay piece. Each mold lasted for several hundred castings, although toward the end of its life the detail wouldn’t have been as sharp.

Kiln workers fired the "green" ware at about 1200 degrees Celsius. Then, the piece moved to the glazers who would paint the piece and fire it again at a slightly lower temperature. After this second firing, another employee would apply the printed transfer of a particular coat of arms or other decoration and send the piece to be fired again.

Finally, decorators added the color by hand, and again the piece would be fired for the last time. If the piece were to be gilted, it would undergo one more round of hand-decoration and firing. Despite the complexity of the process, the cost to the purchaser was still modest—about several dollars in today's money).

The heraldic souvenir craze peaked World War I. By the 1920s, these common trinkets were beginning to seem old-fashioned. 

Goss’ firm made these souvenirs in a wide variety of shapes, eventually producing hundreds with a myriad of different coats of arms, making the number of possible variations run into the thousands. You could collect these souvenirs for years and still continue to find new and interesting pieces.

To read more articles on antiques, please visit the Antiques Article section of my site.  And to stay up to the minute on antiques and collectibles, please join the other 18,000 readers by following my free online magazine, #TheAntiquesAlmanac. Learn more about the Victorians in the Winter 2018 Edition, "All Things Victorian," online now.