Stretched for Beauty

QUESTION: I recently purchased a beautiful plate at an antique show. The dealer said it’s stretched glass, but I don’t see how that’s possible since it’s a round plate. Can you tell me why my plate is called ‘stretched” glass?

ANSWER: Ever since it’s inception, the term stretch(not stretched) has confused people. It appears mistakenly on price tags in antique shops and in online descriptions. Because of the word “stretch,” People imagine a piece from the 1950s or 1960s that has been stretched to make it taller or wider, but stretch glass is entirely different.

Some people believe stretch glass is swung back and forth on a rod to make it stretch outward. Or, they think it looks like a strange type of Carnival or art glass, so it must be that. Neither is correct. Most of the time, people's first reaction is how beautiful the glass is, but they don't know anything about it.

On eBay there are over 28,000 listing for stretch glass and most are far from it. To collectors, stretch glass is iridescent stretch glass. It differentiates the glass from the common mistake of being considered swung glass. Forty to 50 percent of people think swung vases are stretch glass.

Created by several American glass factories from 1916 to the early 1930s, iridescent stretch glass is a pressed or blown molded glass. It’s shaped and formed—pressed or blown into molds—reheated and then sprayed with a metallic salt or dope, a procedure called  doping, while the piece is still hot. The glass blower then reheats the piece and this is when the stretch marks occur. The glass expands faster where the dope blower applied the dope, which causes a crackled, web-like appearance on the glass. Further shaping emphasizes these stretch marks. Some blowers often shape or "work" the glass a lot which emphasizes the stretch marks in the iridescence while others don’t work their pieces as much, resulting in finer stretch marks and are only satiny.

Collectors consider true carnival, stretch, and art glass with a shiny iridescence doped ware. The difference between them is when the glass blower applies the metallic salts to the glass. While glass blowers shape and form Carnival glass first and then dope it  to create a shimmering to slightly satin iridescent surface, they spray stretch glass  while the glass is molten hot, then reheat and reshape it to make the stretch marks. Another difference is that Carnival glass has a distinctive pattern in the glass mold, such as grapes, butterflies, or geometrical patterns on the inside, outside or on both sides of the glass. Stretch glass has little or no pattern and is very plain.

Confusion seems to set in when people are searching for stretch glass, especially since art glass also has both iridescence and stretch effects. Although art glass is from the same period as stretch glass, the chemicals in the glass make the difference. Additional stretch effects may be from doping the pieces and further shaping. Art glass is also much thinner and more delicate than stretch glass.

People also confuse freeform art glass, produced from the 1950s to the present and commonly posted on eBay, with stretch glass.

Companies that produced stretch glass included Central Glass Works of Wheeling, West Virginia, Diamond Glass-Ware Company of Indiana, Pennsylvania, Jeanette Glass Company of Jeanette, Pennsylvania, Vineland Flint of Vineland, New Jersy, and United States Glass Company of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

The true difference between the stretch glass that different manufacturers produced was the unique colors. Tangerine is a popular color among collectors, along with red and ruby, which each cost more because of their popularity. Wisteria, a purple-colored glass is also popular. Opaque colors of stretch iridescent glass are rare and can be pricey.

The most common stretch glass color that can be found is celeste blue, as well as the topaz and pink. Blue was the  dominant color though, along with topaz, both of which were good selling items when they first appeared. Topaz was a good seller in the 1910s and 1920s because not everyone had electricity. This color catches the light and reflects it very well. There’s also a lot of Florentine green stretch glass out there as well and crystal stretch glass, which has a frosty white iridescence. With so many stretch colors out there including aquamarine, blue smoke, coral, custard, pink and white luster, beginning collectors are sure to find a favorite of their own.

Iridescent stretch glass not only comes in a variety of colors, but also a range of prices. Pieces that once sold for 25 cents to $1 can now be picked for $25 to $50, and even $10 to $15 for more common pieces.

High-end pieces, such as a Fenton No. 604 punch on a red stand, can sell into the thousands. One sold on eBay for $4,200. While the price may seem high, anyone can acquire a decent collection of stretch glass if they buy pieces in the $25 to $100 range.

Better to See You With My Dear

QUESTION: While recently going through some boxes in my attic, I discovered a pair of old spectacles that seem to be in rather good condition. Are these collectible?

ANSWER: While most people might just give these away or sell them at a yard sale, you should definitely hang on to these, as they’re very collectible.

Lots of people wear eyeglasses. With the advent of contact lenses, some don’t even show it. But these devices, first invented to magnify text, have become as ubiquitous as cell phones in today’s society.

Church sales and thrift shops often get plastic bags filled with old eye glasses, as people either get new ones or contact lenses. Today, eye glasses are not only a seeing aid but also a fashion accessory. And, what about the spectacles you found in an old family trunk and sold at your last yard sale? Believe it or not, just like other out-of-fashion accessories, those glasses are collectible.

Spectacles have been around since the late Middle Ages when wealthy people in Italy and China wore them. Another early form of sunglasses were goggles, first created by the Eskimos to protect their eyes from snow glare.

The use of eyeglasses grew by the 18th century as their technology improved. They became fashionable when famous Americans began wearing them. Everybody is familiar with the paintings of Benjamin Franklin wearing the bifocals that he invented. Franklin created the first bifocals in the 1760's while living in London.

Thomas Jefferson created the first oblong lenses for his reading glasses to increase his field of vision. Before that glass lenses were round or oval. Later, President Theodore Roosevelt started a fashion trend when he first wore pince-nez glasses—those held on a person’s face by a spring on the nose.


While women didn't wear glasses in public in 18th century America, one woman advertised in 1753, that she “grinds all sorts of Optic Glasses to the greatest perfection." Known in her ad only as "the widow Balthasar Sommer on Pot Baker's Hill,'' she became the earliest recorded American eye glasses maker. But it wasn’t until after the American Revolution that people recorded eye glasses as made in America.

By the early 19th century, glasses adjusted over the ears to fit the entire family. A device called a “Temple" slid back and forth. As with earlier versions, their sole purpose was to magnify.

Eye glass makers used gold and silver for early frames, mostly because they were the most common workable metals available. So a pair of glasses wasn’t cheap. If you think you have old ones, check the hallmark to learn date, country and maker.

Don't pass up examples in brass or steel. They could be 18th or 19th century. In this plastic age, look for authentic tortoise shell frames. Don't limit yourself to 19th and early  20th-century glasses. Remember, they’ve always been made in the fashion of their day.

The 1970's were a great time for unique styles. An example would be the tinted sunglasses designed by artist Peter Max, along with his Pop Art design cases. And don’t forget the outsize sunglasses in the Jackie Kennedy Onassis style. Celebrity styles with funky frame, like the ones worn by Elton John and John Lennon’s small,   round, black-rimmed ones, also debuted in the 1970's. Never mind that the frames are plastic. Like other 1970's objects, they’re also collectible.

If you wish to collect eye wear and related objects, you can build a collection of not only pairs of eyeglasses showing a variety of frames and clear and tinted lenses, but also  opticians' trade signs, related documents, and paintings of people wearing glasses. In most cases, you’ll find many eye glasses for sale for a song at flea markets, church and garage sales.

Tear and Paste

QUESTION: I just purchased a beautiful antique papier-mâché tray at a large antique show. I’ve never seen anything like it before. In fact, I never knew that furnishings and accessories were made of papier-mâché. I still remember making things out of papier-mâché as a kid in school. Is this the same process? If so, it must have taken a long time to make this tray. What can you tell me about it?

ANSWER: Yes, for nearly 100 years papier-mâché furnishings and accessories were all the rage. And, no, the process is a bit different from the sculptures you made in art class when you were a kid.

People don’t often think of papier-mâché when they think of furniture and accessories. But, in fact, it was very popular, especially at the beginning of the 19th century. Papier-mâché is quintessentially Victorian.

Its origins date back to 17th-century England when craftsmen first used a compound of plaster mixed with organic matter such as straw, bark, or nettles to create molded architectural ornaments. The idea was for the frugal decorator to use these prefabricated cornices and rosettes instead of hiring a plaster craftsman.

By the early 18th century, cabinetmakers began using papier-mâché to decorate the frames of looking glasses, chairs, tables. But its main application remained architectural.
               
Beginning in the last quarter of the 18th century, manufacturers began turning out a range of accessories. Trays were popular through the early decades of the 19th century,  Makers produced tea trays, in particular, in great numbers, in response to the spread of tea drinking among the English middle class.

From the beginning, makers japanned papier-mâché housewares by covering them with a hard varnish imitation of Asian lacquer. At first, they kept the decoration simple, with a black or red ground embellished with a guilt border. But in the 1790's they covered the entire surface. Not surprisingly, Chinese scenes were popular. A typical example of this fanciful Oriental taste are the gilt and black trays featuring a painting of a Chinese couple standing by a pagoda. Trays like this have sold for over $6000.

Collectors highly value Regency papier-mâché. One of the finest pieces to come on the market in recent years was a Chinoiserie tray that sold at auction for $24,000. However, this tray didn’t have the black faux-lacquer ground, but instead it had a brightly painted landscape—a rocky topography shaded by willow trees, pagoda-like structures, and men wearing pointy hats. In this case, the artist went overboard with cliches of Oriental life. This decoration form is attributed to Henry Clay, who was the most prominent papier-mâché manufacturer at the time.

Clay promoted papier-mâché as a new material on which to paint. Another tray bearing Clay’s stamp had an overall floral design on a black ground. The lush realism of this tray showed the high level of skill of the industry’s painters. It sold for nearly $3500.
                               
Clay was also a pioneer in manufacturing papier-mâché furniture.  He undertook a series of experiments in durability that resulted in a much stronger material. His experiments enabled papier-mache to be sewn and dovetailed, just like wood.

The firm of Jennens and Bettridge, which took over Clays business in 1816, continued to find new uses for papier-mâché. They expanded the traditional repertoire of salvers and snuff boxes to include the whole suites of chairs, and even piano casings.  Even though papier-mâché was sturdy, manufacturers still thought it prudent to build the seating furniture around a wooden frame.

Jennens and Bettridge developed the use of mother-of-pearl in the decoration of papier-mâché.  Since they patented their technique in 1825, the date makes a useful dividing line in trying to date.

It can be a challenge to find papier-mâché pieces in good condition. But they’re easy to recognize, with their japanned surface and painted floral motifs, highlighted by mother-of-pearl inlay. Though a piece may appear in a high-end antique shop from time to time, collectors find most at middle to high-end antique shows.

An Apple a Day

QUESTION: I was cleaning out my father’s attic and discovered an old Apple computer, an Apple II to be exact.  It’s hard to imagine that this little device was at the forefront of computers of its day. How collectible are early computers and how collectible is this Apple II?

ANSWER: The answer to both your questions is simple—very. The Apple II was the granddaddy of home computers. It looked more like a closed typewriter with its built-in keyboard, but it packed a lot of punch for its day.

Steve Wozniak, who designed the Apple I with limited funds, was able to make some definitive and much improved changes in the Apple II. Appearing for the first time at the  first West Coast Computer Faire on April 16 and 17, 1977, it was an instant sensation.

The main difference internally was a completely redesigned TV interface, which held the display in memory and could display it on a TV via an NTSC cable. Not only useful for simple text display, the Apple II included graphics, and, eventually, color. Steve Jobs, Wozniak’s friend and partner, meanwhile wanted an improved case and keyboard, with the idea that the machine should be complete and ready to run out of the box.

But building the Apple II was financially challenging. Jobs began looking for funds. However, banks were reluctant to lend him money—the idea of a computer for ordinary people seemed absurd at the time. He eventually found Mark Markkula, who co-signed a loan of $250,000. Jobs, Wozniak, and Markkula formed Apple Computer on April 1, 1976. They chose the Apple name because they wanted to beat Atari, and Apple came before Atari in the alphabet and this in the phone book.

With its new case and graphics, the Apple II became one of the 1977 Trinity of computers—along with the Tandy Corporation’s (Radio Shack) TRS-80 and the Commodore PET—credited with establishing the home computer market. Apple Computer sold 5-6 million Apple II’s by 1993.

In terms of ease of use, features, and expandability, the Apple II was a major technological advancement over its predecessor, the Apple I, a bare-bones motherboard computer for hobbyists. First sold on June 10, 1977, the Apple II became one of the longest running mass-produced home computer series, with models in production for just under 17 years. Among the first successful personal computers, it put Apple Computers on the map.

Jobs and Wozniak aggressively marketed the Apple II through volume discounts and manufacturing arrangements to educational institutions which made it the first computer to be used in American secondary schools, displacing the early leader, the Commodore PET. The effort to develop educational and business software for the Apple II made the computer especially popular with business users and families.

To load and save programs and data, the Apple II used audio cassette tapes. In 1978, Wozniak implemented a Disk Operating System or DOS, which he commissioned from the Shepardson Company. The final and most popular version of this software was Apple DOS 3.3. Some commercial Apple II software booted directly and didn’t use standard DOS formats. This discouraged copying or modifying of the software on the disks and improved loading speed.

By 1992, the Apple II series of computers had 16-bit processing capabilities, a mouse-driven Graphical User Interface (GUI for short), and graphics and sound capabilities far beyond the original created in 1977.

Wozniak designed the Apple II to look more like a home appliance than a piece of electronic equipment. The lid lifted off the beige plastic case without the use of tools, allowing access to the computer's internal workings, including the motherboard with eight expansion slots, and an array of random access memory (RAM) sockets that could hold up to 48 kilobytes worth of memory chips.

The Apple II eventually had color and high-resolution graphics modes, sound capabilities and one of two built-in BASIC programming languages, plus a microprocessor running at 1 MHz, 4 KB of RAM—today’s computers run at 800+ Ghz with RAM at 8 gigabytes or higher. Jobs and Wozniak targeted the computer for  consumers rather than just hobbyists and engineers. Unlike other home microcomputers at the time, Apple sold it as a finished consumer appliance rather than as a kit.

To reflect the computer's color graphics capability, the Apple logo on the case sported rainbow stripes which remained a part of Apple's corporate logo until early 1998.

Wozniak eventually added an external 5¼-inch floppy disk drive, the Disk II, attached via a controller card that plugged into one of the Apple II's expansion slots, to replace cassettes for data storage and retrieval. Apple's Disk II became the first affordable floppy drive for personal computers.

Wozniak's open design and the Apple II's multiple expansion slots permitted a wide variety of third-party devices, including Apple II peripheral cards such as serial controllers, display controllers, memory boards, hard disks, networking components, and realtime clocks—all common on today’s computers.

The original retail price of the Apple II with 4 kilobytes of RAM was $1,298 and $2,638 with the maximum 48 kilobytes. Today, Apple II’s can be found on eBay selling for $300-400 in working condition.

While there’s a collector for just about any pre-1990 computer, any from the 1970s and earlier are hot. Though there’s a lot of computer related equipment and peripherals to  to collect from this era,  nothing beats the early Apple computers. Apple has staying power. They’re the last of the home-brewed companies that emerged out of the 1970s that are still in business.

Captured in Silhouette

QUESTION: I found this delightful little silhouette at a recent antique show. I’ve seen them in books but know nothing about them. What are the origins of silhouettes and how did people make them?

ANSWER:  Silhouettes were popular in the 18th and early 19th centuries before the invention of photography. Named after Etienne de Silhouette, Louis XV's controller-general of finances, known for his hobby of cutting profiles from black paper, they eventually turned into an art form.

But silhouettes actually date from classical Greece where they graced Greek and Etruscan pottery and ancient Egyptian frescoes. Their fame came much later when they re-emerged during the 17th century as the "poor man's portrait."

There was a real need for accurate and affordable likenesses of loved ones that didn’t require lengthy sittings and could be produced in duplicate. The solution was the silhouette. Neo-Classicism caught hold in the early 19th century, further cementing the popularity of the silhouette and giving it artistic prestige.

The process of making silhouette portraits was simple. Using the light of a candle, the maker threw the sitter's profile as a shadow against a sheet of paper and traced it with a pencil. He or she then transferred the outlined profile to a piece of black paper, then cut it out or transferred it to a white card, filled in with black ink and then applied it to a white board. Though simple to make, silhouettes weren’t limited to amateurs.

Professional silhouette-cutters, known as profilers, thrived, particularly in Europe where a distinctive and subtler style of silhouette portraiture evolved. Basic black British and American silhouettes had little adornment. Profilers from the Continent, particularly France, used colored and metallic inks to add highlights to the portraits and give them an illusion of being three-dimensional.

The golden age of the profiler occurred during the early 19th century when they achieved the same notoriety as painters.

By the 1830s, professional silhouette artists had abandoned free-hand techniques and started to employ devices such as specially designed "sitting" chairs, scaling tools, and the camera obscura in attempts to achieve accurate likenesses of their subjects. These mechanical aids enabled the operator to achieve almost photographic likenesses, but at the expense of artistry. Although most profilers signed their free-hand silhouettes, few of the later works produced using these mechanical techniques bear their maker's signature.

Pre-Victorian silhouettes concentrated on providing only a head and shoulders portrait. They have provided an accurate record of fashionable couture—hairstyles, wigs, ribbons, jewelry and laces. The style of silhouettes changed in the 1840s to include half and full-length portraits, making them even more useful for indicating what was in vogue for the Victorians. Silhouette portraits became so plentiful that they were exchanged much as a calling card would be used later in the 19th century.

By the mid-19th century the popularity of the silhouette had begun to decline. In an attempt to revive it, artists developed a variety of techniques to make them richer and more attractive, including the introduction of color, gilding and fancy backgrounds. But the silhouette's strength was in its simplicity. This fad, combined with the popularization of photography, helped to bring on the demise of the silhouette. The art form became nothing more than a fairground novelty where it has remained ever since.





            

Mystery Solved

QUESTION: I bought this piece of furniture recently, and I'm not sure what it's called. It has drawers on each side and a closet in the middle. The piece is extremely heavy and stands about six feet tall. Can you help me, please?

ANSWER:  Your piece of furniture is commonly called a chifforobe, a combination of the French word “chiffonier” and the English word “wardrobe.” These pieces have been somewhat of a mystery because different groups of people have given them different names over the years.

These closet-like pieces of furniture originated in 1908 and became especially popular during the Art Deco Period in the United States from 1925-1935 or so. Your piece is a good example of high-style Art Deco, similar to French Art Deco. The drawer pulls on the bottom and the front feet are in the waterfall pattern. These pieces held a lot of clothes at a time when houses had very small bedroom closets.

A chifforobe combines a long space for hanging clothes with a chest of drawers. Typically the wardrobe section runs down one side of the piece, while the drawers occupy the other side.  It may have two enclosing doors or have the drawer fronts exposed and a separate door for the hanging space.

The 1908 Sears, Roebuck Catalogue first advertised chifforobes as a "a modern invention, having been in use only a short time." Southerners seem to use the term more than anyone else. However, others use this piece of furniture but may call it an armoire or a wardrobe.

A wardrobe is a standing closet used for storing clothes. Many people argue that wardrobes are different in use and style of closets, but the French created to use as a closet. While the earliest wardrobe was a chest, it wasn’t until the homes of wealthy nobles became more luxurious that a separate room held their clothing. Builders filled this room with closets and lockers since drawers didn’t exist at the time. From these cupboards and lockers the modern wardrobe, with its hanging spaces, sliding shelves and drawers, eventually evolved.
                                                                                                
Throughout the evolutionary changes in the form of the enclosure, it more or less retained its function as a place to store a noble’s apparel. Over time, the word “wardrobe” came to mean an independent storage place for preserving precious items belonging to the home’s wealthy owner. The modern wardrobe differs  from the historical one in its triple partitioning, with two linear compartments on either side with shelves as well as a middle space made up of hanging pegs and drawers, which came later. A clothes press, placed at the height of a person’s chest, enabled servants to lay clothing that they had just ironed on a pull-out tray.

In the beginning, cabinetmakers used oak to construct wardrobes, but later oak went out of use in favor of the more elegant walnut. They based the size on a wardrobe on the eight small men method.  A good sized double wardrobe would thus be able to hold eight small men.

In the 19th century the wardrobe began to develop into its modern form, with a hanging cupboard at each side, a press in the upper part of the central portion and drawers below. More often than not, cabinetmakers used mahogany for its construction. However, fine-grained, foreign woods became easier to obtain in quantity, and cabinetmakers used them to create elaborately and magnificently inlaid wardrobes.

While furniture designers in the 18th century often created luxurious wardrobes of highly-polished woods, the ultimate refinement occurred with the introduction of central doors, which had previously enclosed merely the upper part, were carried to the floor, covering the drawers as well as the sliding shelves, and were often fitted with mirrors.

As mass production of furniture became more common in the late 19th century, furniture manufacturers abandoned the refinements of early wardrobes in favor of simpler, if not downright plain decoration. By the 1920s, wardrobes appeared in cheaper woods so that they could be sold to the growing middle class of consumers. The term “chifforobe” became an everyday household word, especially to more blue-color people who could purchase one as part of a bedroom set when they got married. However, some manufacturers still made beautiful examples in the American Art Deco or Waterfall style. 

Victory Music

QUESTION: I was helping my mother clean out my grandmother’s house after she died when I found several old records that said V-Disc on the label stuffed in a trunk in the attic. I’ve never heard of a company with a V-Disc label and neither had my mother. One of them seems to have two songs sung by Frank Sinatra—“What Makes the Sunset?” and “I Begged Her.” It also says the record was produced in cooperation with the War Department, Special Services Division. Can you tell me anything about these records? Do they have any value or are they just old records and should be tossed?

ANSWER: It seems you found some little treasures during your cleaning. V-Discs were a special type of record made for servicemen serving abroad in World War II. Most soldiers and sailors joined up thinking that the war would be over in a short time. Little did they realize that it would drag on for several years. Weary and often disheartened, they needed a moral boost, and the V-Disc was it.

The records were 12-inch, 78 rpm messages of music, hope and comfort from America's top musicians. Starting in 1943, and for seven years afterward, the United States Armed Forces sent packages of V-Disc records to ships and bases to all war locations.

It was Army Lt. George Robert Vincent who first got the idea for V-Discs. He worked in Thomas Edison's phonograph laboratories before the war. In 1943, Vincent asked his supervisor if he could put together a special recording project to provide current music to the troops. He eventually received a $1 million startup budget from the U.S. Army and undertook his new military career as head of the V-Disc  program.

At the same time, the American music industry was in turmoil. When Japan attacked French Indochina, the record companies lost their source of imported shellac. And even if they could manufacture records with recycled shellac, the musicians, themselves, had gone on strike against the major record companies.

Vincent's V-Disc staff first had to find a substitute for shellac. Eventually they discovered that vinylite, a Union Carbide polymer, not only could be pressed into records with minimal surface noise, but also the finished product resisted breakage, cracks and fractures. Once they resolved the record material problem, they convinced the American Federation of Musicians and their leader, James Caesar Petrillo, to perform for V-Discs as volunteers, offering their services gratis to the military wanted to hear new songs and recording artists and that all V-Discs would be destroyed after the War.

V-Discs enabled servicemen to hear new and special releases from the top bands of the day. The program provided a variety of music, including big band hits, swing music, classical performances from the best symphonies, a little jazz thrown in for good measure. There were even selections of stirring music from military bands.

Every month, The RCA Victor record factory in Camden, New Jersey, sent a V-Disc kit of 30 records to ports of call and bases around the European and Pacific bases of operations. Each kit, included not only the V-Discs, but an assortment of. steel phonograph needles, a set of lyric sheets, and a questionnaire for soldiers to fill out and return, asking what they liked best, what they liked least, and what they wanted to hear in the future.

During the first week of the V-Disc project, RCA shipped 1,780 boxes of V-Discs to the troops. Within a year, production of the V-Discs had tripled, to supply members of each branch of the military. Even the Office of War Information and Office of Inter-American Affairs wanted V-Discs to use as propaganda materials broadcast to Latin American and European countries, a counterbalance to Axis Sally and Tokyo Rose.

But V-Discs had a very special feature—spoken-word introductions by the artists. Before beginning a song, artists would take a few moments to identify themselves, acknowledge the soldiers, give them a few kind words or inspirational thoughts, kind wish them a safe and speedy return home. "Hiya, men," said Frank Sinatra as he introduced his version of ‘That Old Black Magic.’” "I hope you like these tunes that I've chosen to do for you on these very wonderful V-Discs. And I hope you get as much of a kick out of hearing them as I do out of singing them for you." Other artists added their own special touches to their V-Discs.

Other sources of material for V-Discs came from radio networks, who sent their live feeds to V-Disc headquarters in New York—the AFM strike didn’t affect live performances. Artists gathered at several V-Disc recording sessions in theaters around New York and Los Angeles, including CBS Playhouse No. 3, now the Ed Sullivan Theater, NBC Studio 8H, the home of Saturday Night Live, and CBS Playhouse No. 4, reborn in the 1970s as the infamous Studio 54 disco.

One of the conditions under which AFM musicians would record V-Discs was that the records couldn’t be reproduced or resold, and that the discs had to be destroyed after the V-Disc program ended. After the program ended in 1949, the armed forces honored their request by destroying original masters and record stampers and by discarding V-Discs left behind at bases and on ships. The FBI and the Provost Marshal's Office also confiscated and destroyed V-Discs that servicemen had smuggled home. An employee at a Los Angeles record company spent time in prison for his illegal possession of more than 2,500 V-Discs. 

Today, music-lovers and World War II memorabilia collectors covet V-Discs. Near-mint copies of  V-Discs are hard to find, and most copies would be graded "good" to "fair" condition due to surface scuffs and 60 years of storage. Common titles sell for $5-10, while name artists such as Frank Sinatra or Arturo Toscanini can command $25-40`for their V-Discs, depending on condition and rarity of title. A V-Disc containing the classic Abbott and Costello "Who's on First" comedy routine, backed with a version of Take Me Out to the Ballgame as played by baseball organist- Gladys Gooding, is worth up to $75 in near-mint condition: Unopened packages of V-Disc needles sell for $5-10, and a spring-wound V-Disc phonograph can run from $250-340 in working condition.

So you see, it seems your grandfather smuggled the V-Discs you found and kept them all these years as a remembrance of his time in the War. They worth far more in sentimental value—real treasures of times past.

A Tool for Every Purpose

QUESTION: I’ve always liked old tools and would like to start collecting them. Can you offer any advice on how to get started?

ANSWER: For any collector, liking something is the most important thing. You should collect what you like. Doing so will build and keep your interest in your collection for a long time. That’s the difference between collecting and assembling a group of like objects. In the former, you have vested interest while in the latter you’re just adding them to a shelf or cabinet.

Old tools not only have value, they also have historical interest. You should always be asking how old they are, what condition they’re in, and how rare they are?

When it comes to tools, age is a major element. This doesn’t necessarily mean a tool’s actual age. What’s most important is age related to the particular type of tool. Planes are a good example. Many years before companies began manufacturing planes out of metal, they made them of wood. It’s very easy to find a wooden plane that’s well over 150 years old that, in good condition, may be worth only $25 dollars. The more modern version, which isn’t as old but is made of metal, can be worth many times that amount particularly if it’s one of the early models. So just because you have an old tool that you can date to the early 1800s, doesn’t necessarily mean you have a very valuable tool

The most important point to consider with tools is condition. This is the area among collectors where more confusion exists than any other. Look at how what you have  relates to what was originally made. This can be looked at in two ways. First, is what you have totally complete? Are all the parts, cutters and anything else that came along with the original tool still there? One of the best examples of a tool that’s commonly for sale without all the parts is the Stanley 45 multiplane. The basic Stanley 45 came with 18 to 23 cutters, two lengths of arms, depth stops and in some cases a cam rest. Very seldom do you find a complete Stanley 45 for sale, yet in many cases, the asking price is that of a complete one.

After you’ve determined a tool’s completeness, the next thing to look at is its actual physical condition. Cracked or chipped handles or even handles that have been glued back together reduce the value. In some cases, people will substitute a handle or a part from another tool that looks about right. While this might make the tool useable, it detracts from the value for the true collector. Finish is also important. Having the original label still in place and the original metal and wood finish makes a tool more valuable. What detracts most from the value is when you can see signs of wire brushing  or that the tool has been painted black or covered with some kind of other coating.

The "rareness" of a tool, as with other antiques, is also very important when determining its value. This typically comes down to how many have survived and are available for sale. In some cases there may be a limited relationship to how many were actually made. A good example of this is the foot-powered tools that were common in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. During World War II scrap metal drives, people donated many of these to be melted down for the war effort. Partially as a result of this, these foot-powered. tools are sometimes hard to find. In other cases, a particular style or type of tool may have only been manufactured for a limited period. This may be a result of a company going out of business, the tool not selling well or some external events such as a war that caused manufacturing priorities to be redirected. In most cases, it can usually be concluded that the more rare a tool is, the more it’s worth.

Tools, obviously, come in all shapes, sizes, and sorts. Each tool has been designed for a different job and so the variety is endless. In fact, even longtime experienced tool collectors will often run into something they haven't seen before. To make sense of all this variety, tool collectors have established categories of tools to help them focus their collections. In the broadest categorization, they divide tools into groups by the material they work—woodworking tools, metalworking tools, basket making tools, leather working tools, etc. They also further defined tools within each of these categories. For instance, in the woodworking tool category, there are edge tools, boring tools, measuring tools, woodworking machines, and so on. Within the machinist tool category, there are calipers, gauges, indicators, etc.

Tools can also be categorized in ways outside their intended purpose, such as by tool makers, patented tools, aesthetic tools, tools from a particular era or generation, tools made in a particular geographical area, tools made from a certain material, and miniatures.

Collecting tools can be daunting—and expensive—if you don’t focus on a particular type early on. But whatever type you choose to collect, always buy the best you can afford.

Elephant Mugs and More

QUESTION: I recently bought a small mug in the shape of an elephant at a monthly flea market. It has GOP 1968 embossed under the top edge. On the bottom it says "Frankhoma" What can you tell me about this cute little mug?.

ANSWER: The mug you found was a souvenir of the Republican Party Women, created by John Frank.

After graduating from the Chicago Art Institute, John Frank moved to Norman, Oklahoma., in 1927 to establish the first Ceramic Art Department at the University of Oklahoma. In 1933 he started his own pottery company to create a line of fine art ware and sculpture that ordinary people could afford to buy. A year later, Frank's wife, Grace Lee, suggested the company name should incorporate both their family name and the last letters of their state, thus the company officially became Frankoma Pottery.

The Franks and their new business moved about 20 miles south of Tulsa to Sapulpa in 1938, but soon hardship followed. Their first building, constructed partially by Grace's father, burned down shortly after their arrival. Despite the economic hardships caused by the fire and the Great Depression, the Franks followed their vision and rebuilt.

Instead of reissuing early sculptures, such as figurines, ashtrays and vases, the Franks decided to make bookends, candleholders, wall vases, face masks and plaques following the fire. Frankoma also became the pioneer in colored tableware with bold designs in vibrant Southwestern colors such as Prairrie Green and Desert Gold. From 1942 until 1988 Frankoma created a line of wagon- wheel dinnerware that became its signature product. The Pottery also produced dinnerware in other patterns, including Mayan-Aztec, Plainsman, Lazybones, and Westwind.

In 1968 John Frank designed an elephant mug as a fundraiser for the National Republican Party. The following year it became a collectible series. The Frank’s daughter, Joniece, designed the first Democrat donkey mug in 1975. The company produced other collectibles,  including 14 Teenagers-of-the-Bible plates issued from 1972 until 1982 and Christmas plates,  first issued in 1965. From 1955 until 1967, Frankoma also manufactured earrings, pins, and tie clasps and the bolo tie designed by John Frank, who had received an award for jewelry design in 1927.

The type of clay and trademarks help collectors identify old and new Frankoma pieces. John Frank experimented with many types of clay from different areas of Oklahoma. From 1933 until 1954 he used tan clay found near Ada, Oklahoma. Collectors now call pieces made with this clay Ada Clay.        

In 1954 he switched to a brick red firing clay located a few miles from the factory in an area known as Sugar Loaf Hill. Collectors call this Sapulpa Clay Pre-1980. In the 1980s, additives affected the red brick color of the clay, and it became either a light pink or a light orange. Collectors refer to this as Sapulpa Clay Post-1980. The changes in the clay also affected the color of the glazes. Today, Ada clay pieces are generally worth the most.

Collectors today regard the pieces with Frank's initials "JNF" or '"JF” as the most desirable. During 1933 and 1934, Frank marked his firm’s wares with one of three marks—“FRANK POTTERIES NORMAN OKLAHOMA,” “FRANK POTTERIES NORMAN OKLA” or “FRANK POTTERIES.” It wasn’t until he incorporated Frankoma Potteries in February 1934 that he used a rubber stamp with the of the word “Frankoma.” He didn’t use it for long, so it’s quite rare. From late 1934 until 1954 the company used an impressed mark.

Frank also used what collectors call the cat mark from 1934 until it was destroyed in the 1938 fire. Known as the “Pot and Puma” logo, it was the company's first trademark and featured a large ceramic vase with a Taylor pacing cat in the foreground. It can be found on larger pieces. After he rebuilt the company after the fire, Frank again used an impressed Frankoma mark but this time the “O” was oblong, and not round. This Frankoma mark continued to be hand impressed until the early 1950s when the trademark was often inducted in the mold along with the mold number. However, some of the pieces made at this time had no marks since Frank never modified their molds. He often personalized pieces he gave as gifts to friends, family and special customers. His etched message and signature is definitely the most valuable mark.

After Frank’s death in 1973, his daughter Joneice took over, but in September 1983, fire once again claimed the Frankoma Pottery. The following year, after reopening, she had to declare bankruptcy. Two more owners took over the molds and tried to keep the pottery going, but in 2011, the company finally went on the auction block.

It's All in the Details

QUESTION:  I have what I was told is an antique Chippendale China Trade Corner chair which is unfortunately in very poor condition—the finish has been removed and it’s missing a side panel . It does have what appears to be an original leather seat cover. I’m curious to know if a piece of furniture in this condition is worth anything, and if it’s worth restoring? Also, I’m curious about the history told to me many years ago by a dealer. He seemed to think the chair was a Chippendale copy that was made in Asia (china) and sent to America by clipper ship. That seemed like a plausible story at the time. What do you think about that?  

ANSWER: From its construction and the lack of detailed carving, I can tell that your chair isn’t an 18th-century Chippendale but a Colonial Revival chair from the 1880s or 1890s. Whether or not it came from China, I’m not sure. The carving on the knees of the legs and on the rail at the top of the chair are shallow, more incised with a router than carved with a chisel.

The goal of Colonial Revival pieces was to make them in the style of the original, but usually the manufacturer was a bit lacking in correct details. And it’s the details that distinguish authentic, handcrafted reproductions, such as those commissioned by Winterthur Museum and Colonial Williamsburg, from poor examples made in factories.

The China Trade flourished from the end of the American Revolution into the 19th century. Wealthier Americans, not wanting anything British, sought items made in China which simulated those they had previously imported from England. High on the list were fine porcelains, especially the blue and white variety. And while the Chinese also made and exported some furniture imitating the designs of Thomas Chippendale, they didn’t create exact reproductions, but only approximations of his designs. In any event, what they did produce was elegant and first rate, not a cheap knock-off.

This corner chair, while possibly made in China, most likely appeared toward the end of the 19th century, perhaps in the 1890s. What differentiates it from authentic 18th-century examples is the lack of detail.

Before looking at this chair, however, it’s important to know the difference between an exact, authentic reproduction, like those commissioned by Winterthur Museum and Gardens or Colonial Williamsburg, and the stylized ones of the late 19th and 20th centuries. Skilled craftsmen often create the former to exact detail using handcrafting tools and original techniques while factory workers using machines produce the latter for the mass market.

Details on authentic reproductions reflect the originals. But those on stylized versions are either lacking or not rendered sharply. Carvings, usually done by routers, aren’t as sharp and three-dimensional as those on the original pieces.

For example, the chair rail on this corner chair ends in a smooth curved knob while the same ends on an authentic Chippendale corner chair are ergonomically carved to fit the middle two fingers of each hand, thus making it easier for a person to stand up from the chair. Also the added portion on top of the rail is smooth and elegant on the original and crude and carved lightly on this one.

This chair needs major restoration. However, the cost may be higher than the chair is worth. The leather seat isn’t worth saving. Its too damaged. However, you could have the chair upholstered again in leather. The only way to replace the missing back splat is to have a carpenter make an identical one, a job that isn’t cheap. If it were an authentic 18th-century piece, then it would be worth saving.

Pack 'Em Up

QUESTION: As I was sorting through things in my attic, I came across a couple of old wooden crates. One of them has "National Beer" written on the side in fancy letters while the other seems to have been for packing pears. Are these just junk or should I consider using them in some way? Do they have any value at all?

ANSWER: Today, we have all sorts of plastic containers to hold foods and other goods. But back in the good ole days—as late as the 1930s—goods came packed in wooden crates. Everyone knows the colorful ones used by the fruit industry to pack fresh fruit, but, in fact, there were as many different crates as their were products sold in general stores.

Old wooden crates tend to evoke feelings of nostalgia—of the simple, good life. And thanks to interior decorators, they’ve become a versatile source of inspiration for creative furniture, decorative home accents, and inventive storage solutions.

Wooden crates go back to the time of the general store. Norman Rockwell reminded everyone of the nostalgia of those bygone days in his paintings, depicting men sitting by a warm, pot-bellied stove in the general store, smoking a pipe, reading a newspaper, with a dozing dog stretched out on the floor. In the 19th and early 20th century, especially in rural locations, the general store acted not only as a source of dry goods and food ingredients, but as a social center as well.

Like the modern supermarket, the general store sold the essentials for living. Storekeepers displayed their goods mostly in packing crates with the lids pried off, so customers could buy the contents straight from the crate. Everyone knew what was in each box because each crate showed its contents in bold stenciling on the sides or with a brightly colored paper label.

Lucky customers may have been able to wrangle a packing crate from the storekeeper and turn it into a handy kitchen cabinet, bookcase, or vegetable rack. People back then reused everything, and wooden crates were no exception.

More unusual, and highly sought after, are the pieces of folk art furniture built around these boxes`making them into extremely decorative storage units for collections of anything from fishing lures to rubber stamps and other paraphernalia.

In the early part of the 20th century these units were made by encasing wooden cheese boxes or Baker's' chocolate boxes, adding knobs and a coat of paint. Men made these utilitarian storage units to keep their woodworking or metalworking bits and pieces together in one place.

In the last quarter of the 20th century these engaging folk art pieces have become highly prized, usually expensive, decorator items for a country look in the home. They now take their place in sitting rooms, dining rooms and kitchens, no longer relegated to the work room or garage.

In 1847, a stamping process became available that produced tin cans cheaply. Canneries proved to be invaluable during the Civil War and just five years after the war, 34 million cans of food were on the market throughout the United States. By 1878 canning factories proliferated all over the country, and almost every type of food could be found in a can. Many of the early cans were decorative and made in fanciful shapes to induce sales as some people were suspicious of canned foods. Canneries shipped their products in nothing other than wooden stenciled crates.

By the 1880s there were almost four million farms and about half of the world's annual yield of precious metals being panned or mined in America. More and more factories  turned out packaged goods such as whiskey, soap, stoves, clocks, watches and cast-iron items like doorstops and banks, as well as pots and skillets, for the home. All these goods came packed in wooden crates.

By the end of that decade, refrigerated railroad cars were hauling fruits and vegetables from California and Florida to New York. Seafood traveled to Chicago and freighters  carried food goods around the world. For the first time, Easterners could buy Hawaiian pineapples and Maine residents could buy Florida fruit.  All shipped in wooden cases with brightly colored labels. Today, these are all very collectible.

Soon catalogs, known as “Farmer's Bibles" and "The Nation's Wishbook," appeared. Each new issue contained even more and better things. These books changed the way America shopped in the late 19th century. The railroad depot replaced the general store, as people awaited the delivery of their large goods by freight train. One thing that didn’t change was that goods still came in wooden crates.

Of all the old-time packaging methods, the one that has mostly been ignored by collectors is wooden crates. It's true that for many years, decorators have been taking apart early shipping crates and just using the stenciled sides or ends to create "atmosphere" both in homes and restaurants. However, it has only been in the last few years that collectors have recognized the historical significance, decorating possibilities, and value of these wooden boxes from a bygone age. 

Victorian Hair Recycling

QUESTION: I bought an unusual item at a yard sale last weekend. It’s a small round container, which I believe is made of some sort of plastic, that has a lid with a one-inch hole in its center. Can you please tell me what this object would have been used for?

ANSWER: You bought a hair saver, an item that isn’t seen anymore. Hair savers, once found on the top of most dressers and vanities, were small containers with a finger-wide hole in the lid, through which women poked pieces of their hair. Made of a variety of materials, including glass, silver, bronze, and later celluloid, a form of early plastic, some of the nicest ones are of hand-painted porcelain.

After brushing her hair before bed each evening, a Victorian woman would remove the accumulated hair from her brush and comb and place it through the opening of the receiver for storage.

She could use the accumulated hair to stuff into small bags of sheer netting to make a ratt which looked like a tube of sausage. A woman would insert a ratt into her hairstyle to add volume and fullness, especially for popular styles like The Pompadour or The Gibson. Hair could also be used as stuffing for items like pin cushions or small pillows. Unfortunately, it was too knotted and broken to use to make jewelry, which was popular in the 19th century.

Since Victorian women didn’t wash their hair as often as they do today, they often used fragrant oils to add scent and shine to their hair. The residual oil made the hair an ideal stuffing for pincushions because it lubricated the pins, making it easier for them to pierce material. Also, because hair was softer and less prickly than pinfeathers, it was ideal to use for stuffing small pillows.

Glass hair receivers often had brass or silver tops. Though manufacturers produced hair receivers in a variety of shapes and sizes, most are round or oval. They consist of the receiver bottom and a removable top with a round hole in the middle through which to put the hair. Some were made with graceful legs or pedestals to rest upon, but most have flat bottoms. The more unique ones are in the shape of animals and other figures.

Artisans working for companies such as Limoges, Noritake, O.S. Prussia, R.S. Prussia and Wistoria hand-painted porcelain pieces with floral or Oriental designs on both the receiver and top. Simpler ones featured merely a gilt border around the edge of the top.

Because articles made of hair were most popular prior to the 1891 McKinley Act, many older hair receivers show no mark of maker or country of origin. Pieces made after this date bear Japanese and European markings.

Prices for hair receivers, based upon condition, intricacy of design, whether it’s hand-painted or not, manufacturer, and age, vary widely. Celluloid and plastic bring the lowest prices, usually $15 to $30, while hand-painted porcelain pieces from a major manufacturer in excellent condition can bring $65 to $100. Many beautiful single pieces average $50 to $75, while sets containing other dresser items usually start around $100.