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.

Saving With Uncle Sam

QUESTION: When I was a child, my father gave me an cast iron Uncle Sam bank for Christmas. I recently purchased a similar one at an antique show. It stands 10 ½ inches tall and weighs about 7 pounds.  I’m not sure if it’s authentic. How can I tell if it is and what can you tell me about the history of my bank?

ANSWER: In all likelihood, the bank you bought at that antique show is a reproduction which probably dates from the early 20th century.

Peter Adams Jr. and Charles G. Shepard created the first Uncle Sam bank. But it was the Shepard Hardware Company of Buffalo, New York that produced the first one in 1886. This particular cast-iron mechanical bank features an umbrella-carrying Uncle Sam standing on a decorated base holding a suitcase. By placing a coin in his hand and pressing the knob on the box, Uncle Sam lowers his arm and puts the money into the U.S Treasury bag. The beard on his lower jaw moves as if he’s talking.

At the time it appeared on the market, the bank showed Uncle Sam, who represented the U.S. Government, taking citizens' money.

So who was Uncle Sam? The first use of the moniker “Uncle Sam” supposedly appeared during the War of 1812 in reference to Samuel Wilson, who was a meat packer who inspected meat  destined for the troops. People called him Uncle Sam, and he just so happened to have the same initials as the new country.

Toy banks became popular in the United States during the 18th century after hard currency went into circulation. But it wasn’t until the early part of the 19th century that the first chartered savings bank in New York City opened its doors. Being thrifty soon became a popular trend, and people began using toy banks as a way to follow the encouraging words of Benjamin Franklin—“A penny saved is a penny earned.”

Your bank was possibly cast from an historic mold made by Shepard. If Uncle Sam’s beard moves as the coin in his spring-loaded hand drops into the U.S. Treasury bag at his feet, then your bank is authentic.

Many reproductions have been made since the first Uncle Sam bank. Those produced in the 1920s may still hold considerable value, but never as much as the original. The most recent large scale production of these banks occurred during the U.S. Bicentennial celebration in 1976. But manufacturers cut corners and didn’t make these banks from real cast iron, choosing to use a lighter, cheaper metal instead. These cheap knockoffs also had more details than the originals. While some look similar to the originals, most can be spotted by the addition of embellishments and added details.

If your bank is heavy, it’s probably an early reproduction. Also, if the paint is really bright, it most likely is a later reproduction. Some people have repainted originals, but this is a mistake and ruins their value. Some reproductions also have incorrect colors. The correct colors should be a blue full dress coat with red and white striped pants. On the bottom of the base should be the words, "PAT. JUNE 8, 1886". Most reproductions show the mark, “Made in Korea” or “Made in China.” But some reproductions only have an eagle and banners on one side. On the original they appear on both sides. The beard moves on the originals but doesn’t move on many reproductions. A modern reproduction, made in Taiwan, sells for only about $15 to $25.

The value of these banks is always dependent on their condition, but many of the originals have little paint left on them. In good working condition and with all of its original paint, an 1886 bank could be worth between $1,000 and as much $18,000.

Sweets from a Queen

QUESTION: I have an old tin candy box with a picture of the Queen Mary on the front. It says on the side that the box contains candies made by Bensons Confectionery Ltd. of Bury, England. I’ve always like this box and keep extra buttons in it. What can you tell me about it and the Queen Mary?

ANSWER: Bensons was the official confectioner of the Cunard Line, the company that built and operated the R.M.S. Queen Mary. While your box is the more common type, they come in a variety of shapes, including a full rectangle with rounded corners, a more angular rectangle with the corners cut off, and one that has its corners cut off further to almost produce an oval.

The Queen Mary her illustrious career as the most luxurious passenger liner of her day, catering to the rich and famous, on May 27, 1936, the day she departed Southampton, England, on her maiden voyage to New York City, with a stop in Cherbourg, France.  Measuring 1,019 ft long, 118 ft wide, 185 ft high, and weighing in at more than 81,000 gross tons, it was built to accommodate 815 first class, 787 second class, 573 third class passengers and 1,200 crew members.

But the liner’s early days weren’t so smooth sailing. Construction began as job Number 534 on December 1930 at the John Brown Shipyard in Clydebank, Scotland. A year later, Cunard halted construction as the Great Depression took its toll. To get things going again, the British Government loaned Cunard the money to get the project going again with one requirement—that the company merge with its rival The White Star Line.

The infusion of cash was enough to get the ship afloat, and in September 1934, Cunard launched the ship it now called the Queen Mary to great fanfare.

Everyone wanted a piece of the action. Fashion magazines positioned themselves in association with the Queen Mary, as the pinnacle of style and elegance. Advertisers, including   the National Hotel Management Company, which operated a chain of top-end U.S. hotels, also used the maiden voyage to launch promotions of their own.

Unfortunately, World War II put a temporary hold on the ship’s main service. The Queen Mary was just two days way from ending its 143rd crossing cross the Atlantic. The British Admiralty instructed Captain Irving of the Queen Mary to put his ship on war alert in a coded message.

Warned of possible submarine attacks, Irving posted additional lookouts and ordered work crews to extinguish all exterior lights and black out the ship's 2,000 portholes and windows. He also instructed his helmsmen to steer a zigzag course.

Apprehension gripped the passengers as its 2,332 passengers, many of them Americans, realized that they had narrowly escaped Europe as the threat of war became a reality. Two days later, on September 5, 1939, the Queen Mary arrived safely in New York Harbor.

She remained docked at Pier 90 on the Hudson River until March 1940, when the British Admiralty called her into active service. A coat of drab gray paint replaced the bright Cunard livery of black, red, and white. Workers also blocked out the huge letters spelling out the ship’s name. They also removed most of her carpeting, furniture, artwork, as well as 200 cases of crystal, china and silverware and stored them in Cunard warehouses along the Hudson.

The ship then sailed to Sydney, Australia, where Cunard workers transformed the Queen Mary into a troopship. They removed any remaining furniture and all 2,000 stateroom doors
put them into storage. Then they installed wooden bunks and hammocks for troops, converted shops into military offices, and converted her ballroom into a 50-bed hospital.

On her first wartime voyage in 1940, the Queen Mary carried 5,000 troops. Between 1940 and 1946, she made 72 voyages, safely transporting 765,429 military personnel. In fact, in July 1943, she carried 16,683 troops, the largest number of humans ever transported on one vessel at one time—a world record that still stands today.

Until Cunard installed stabilizers in 1956, the Queen Mary was also known as “Rolling Mary.” Cunard even had peach-colored glass used in mirrors in first class so that green-skinned complexions could take on a rosy glow. During a wartime crossing, Bing Crosby spent three days in the cargo hold because the lower on the ship, the steadier the ride.

Following the war, Cunard demilitarized the ship and refitted her. From February to September 1946, she made 13 round trips between Southampton and New York under the U.S. Army's "Operation Diaper," more commonly known as the “Bride and Baby Shuttle.”

A typical war bride menu included a choice of roast loin of fresh pork or cold roast beef, mashed or baked potatoes, salad, fruit, cheese, biscuits and coffee. Not the luxury of prewar meals, but certainly a feast by the standards of the time.

In July 1947, the Queen Mary resumed its role as a luxury passenger liner. She continued to make transatlantic crossings for another 20 years, eventually falling victim to a decline in the number of passengers, as modern travelers embraced air travel.

In May 1967, the Queen Mary had outlived her usefulness. Cunard put her up for sale and the City of Long Beach, California became her new owner for $3,450,000. The ship made a final voyage from Southampton to Long Beach but was too  large to fit through the Panama Canal. As a result, she had to travel down the coast of South America and around Cape Horn.

Conversion from luxury passage liner to floating hotel and tourist .attraction took four years to complete. Today, you can experience her Art Deco opulence and marvel at the 56 different varieties of wood veneers used throughout the ship.

Today, collectors actively seek out any piece of Queen Mary memorabilia, such as this Benson’s candy tin. While the tin sells for around $40 online in good condition, a variety of other items, including posters, timetables, commemorative medallions distributed by the Daily Record, and brochures issued by Cunard White Star Limited announcing the "Launch of No. 534, in the presence of Their Majesties, The King & Queen, Wednesday, September 26, 1934, at Clydebank, are also available.

History in a Jar

QUESTION: I’ve just begun to collect old jars and bottles. Recently, I found an old blue Mason jar at a church sale. Embossed on the front of it are the words “The Clyde.” The letters “CGW” appear on the bottom. I haven’t been able to find any information about this jar. Can you help me out?

ANSWER: It appears that you found an old Mason jar made by the Clyde Glass Works of Clyde, New York, in 1895.

When New York Governor DeWitt Clinton proposed the Erie Canal that would cross the state, linking the Hudson River with the Great Lakes, people sarcastically called it "Clinton’s Big Ditch." A construction project of that magnitude, completed entirely by hand labor, seemed impossible. But by July 4, 1817, construction of the canal had begun. It wasn’t until October 26, 1825 that a canal boat made the first full-length voyage on the new canal.

Frederick Augustus Dezeng, an immigrant from Saxony, Germany, who operated a window glass factory near Geneva, New York, was a good friend of Governor Clinton. He understood the importance of being able to transport goods by water from Lake Erie all the way to New York City via the Hudson River. But more importantly, he realized that shipping his glass by canal boat would be safer and cause less breakage.Even carefully packed, glass didn’t  travel well in horse-drawn carts over bumpy dirt roads of unpredictable condition.

Dezeng saw the potential of doing business via the Erie Canal. Access to firewood to fuel the glass furnaces was a major reason, as was the ease of packet boats bringing in sand from Oneida, New York, along with quantities of potash lime via the Canal. He encouraged his  youngest of five children, William, to set up a glassworks along the Canal in nearby Laurelville, which later changed its name to Clyde.

William S. Dezeng and his brother-in-law, James R. Rees, went into partnership to open a glass factory to make cylinder window glass in 1827. They laid the cornerstone for their new enterprise on March 27, 1828, and the factory began production that year. A newspaper advertisement from 1833 promoted the firm’s glass as  first quality and free from imperfections. This was a major achievement in itself since up to that time window glass had many imperfections. In the process, a glassblower blew molten glass into a cylinder, then cut it it open and annealed it to flatten it out. However, ripples and small bubbles in the finished glass were almost unavoidable.

Though Dezeng and Rees’s glass factory in Clyde, New York, began operation in 1828, the plant didn’t begin producing bottles until 1864. Over the years, the company reorganized periodically—mostly due to retirements, deaths, and new partners— although it maintained a continuity of ownership. In 1880, the owners incorporated as the Clyde Glass Works.  The firm made soda and beer bottles, liquor flasks, and fruit (Mason Patent) jars marked with the Clyde logo.

The G in the logo is very distinctive. The wide-angled G included a downward slash as the serif or tail of the letter, tilted at a much greater angle than most. The “Clyde” embossment on the front of the jar is in a upwardly slanted cursive style.

The firm probably made these jars in 1895 to commemorate the anniversary of the incorporation of the Clyde Glass Works. Originally hand blown, they were eventually made by machines by 1903 but only for a short time. In fact, there are more hand-blown jars on the market today because the factory produced more of them. Workers at the plant ground some of the lips of these jars while leaving others unground. It’s unclear why.

Lackluster sales caused the Clyde Glass Works to close in 1915.

While the Clyde Glass Works’ Mason jars sell on ebay for $15 to $75, those embossed with the words “The Clyde” usually sell for a price at the higher end of the range.

Copycat Camera

QUESTION: I found what I think is a unique 35mm camera this week. I believe it’s from the early 1950s. However, even though I’ve looked, I can’t seem to find too much information about it. It’s called a Leotax, but I’ve never heard of this brand before. What can you tell me about it?

ANSWER: The Leotax isn’t the most prevalent camera on the collectible market, mostly because not a whole lot of them were made. It’s main claim to fame is that it was the Japanese equivalent of the then popular Leica M3, a rangefinder camera with excellent optics and precision.

In January 1938, Nakagawa Kenzo founded a company called Kyoei-sha, based in Nippori, Tokyo. Nakagawa, a former engineer of Konishiroku, obtained financial support from Minagawa Shoten.

By the end of 1938, Kenzo had renamed his company G.K. Showa Kogaku. Its main product was the  Leotax, a Leica-style 35mm camera, initially made with an uncoupled rangefinder. However during its early years, the company manufactured mostly Semi Leotax folding cameras.

Kenzo had a special fondness for Leica cameras, so he set out to develop a Japanese counterpart. But he ran into problems because of the numerous patents Leica had registered for its products. The camera design that Kenzo finally settled on was a rangefinder—a camera in which the photographer views his or her subject through a separate viewfinder. While Leicas had two viewfinders, the Leotax had only one round one, positioned in the upper left hand corner on the back of the camera. Kenzo’s major challenge was finding a way to circumvent Leica’s coupled rangefinder mechanism—that is connecting the viewfinder to the lens.

The Leotax had an uncoupled rangefinder mechanism which had to be set manually on the lens by looking through the viewfinder and rotating a control dial on the top of the camera for the measured distance. While not such a good solution, it did work.  This was the original Leotax camera.

Following World War II, Kenzo changed the company name again to Showa Kogaku Seiki K.K.  In 1942 with the introduction of the Leotax Special A and Special B, the company adopted a coupled short base rangefinder with a scissor strut arrangement for the sensor arm, presumably to circumvent the Leica patents. This sensor arm arrangement necessitated moving the viewfinder of the original Leotax from just above the lens to a position at the extreme left of the top cover as viewed from the rear. These cameras emulated the Leica III with exposure times to 1 second.

Early Leotax Leica type cameras had nicely finished exteriors but crudely finished interiors. By the time the Leotax DIV appeared on the market, the firm had produced a good camera with an equally fine interior and exterior.

Renamed Leotax Camera K.K. in 1956 or 1957, the company continued to produce cameras until 1961. It made only 50 of the pre-World-War-II Leotax models. This particular one seems to be the Leotax DIV (D4), the sixth in a line of 18 models made by the firm from 1938 to 1961.

By 1947, Kenzo had substantially changed the Leotax as a result of the invalidation of all the Leica patents by the Allies. So beginning with the Leotax DIII (D3), all Leotax cameras featured a coupled rangefinder mechanism. In 1950, the firm changed its name again to Showa Optical Works Ltd. and in 1956, underwent its final name change to Leotax Camera Company, Ltd.

In 1961, the company filed for bankruptcy, mainly due to the large quantities of the Leica M3 that had finally come on the market. This Leica featured the far superior bayonet mounting system for its lenses, something which the Leotax didn’t have. And despite the lower price of the Leotax models, they just couldn’t compete with the excellence of the Leica M3.

The final straw came with the introduction of the single lens reflex camera (SLR), with its instant-return mirror, motorized film advance, and modular construction. From then on, the makers of interchangeable lens rangefinder cameras were relegated to oblivion.

The Leotax Camera Company became the second oldest Japanese camera manufacturer, the oldest being Canon.  Of the many small Japanese companies that tried to copy the Leica cameras, the Leotax was the most well-known. A relatively small firm, it produced no more than 50,000 cameras during its lifetime.

Today, most Leotax camera fetch decent prices.  A model of the Leotax DIV in average condition recently sold for $336.  In mint condition, this camera can fetch nearly $1,000.

A Penny a Pack

QUESTION: I recently discovered what looks like a toy slot machine while browsing in a local thrift shop. But instead of different types of fruit in the window, it shows packs of cigarettes.  The machine is painted bright red and blue with silver accents. An emblem showing a sophisticated lady smoking a cigarette appears on the front under the window. What can you tell me about my new toy?

ANSWER: To begin with, your little slot machine isn’t a toy. It’s what’s called a trade stimulator, an item certain businesses used to stimulate business.

Trade stimulators were countertop machines used to encourage shoppers to indulge in a game of chance. They became popular in American saloons during the 1880s. Eventually, cigar, confectionery and general store owners saw their potential for generating business and began using them. Produced in a wide range of designs, these little machines originated around the same time as slot machines. Players inserted a coin and pulled a lever. If they got a winning combination, they won prizes of cigars, cigarettes, candy and other goods. When certain states prohibited gambling, business owners could use these machines without fear of prosecution.

The Groetchen Tool & Manufacturing Company in Chicago, one of many companies that manufactured these little machines, produced a variety of models of trade stimulators from 1936 through 1948. This particular one is known as the Liberty Bell or just Liberty. It stood 10 inches tall, 9 inches wide, and 10 inches deep and weighed about 14 pounds. The Liberty dispensed tokens for l or 5 packs of cigarettes. The three reels in the Liberty Bell have pictures of seven different brands of cigarettes. On the front cover of the slot machine is the image of a sophisticated lady smoking a cigarette that’s almost Art-Deco looking.

Many of these trade stimulators used tokens rather than coins, also known as mints. In many cases, players could exchange these tokens, especially ones marked “mints” for cash "under the counter." Other tokens displayed the words “candy” or “cigarettes” and could be exchanged for them.

J. H. Keeny & Company, which made amusement and gambling machines in Chicago, also produced the tokens used in trade simulators. In the 1960s, the Mills Novelty Company bought J.H. Keeny & Company.

Some machines also disguised themselves as vending machines by giving winners cigarettes or cigars rather than mints. For only one cent, the customer could play the machine by inserting the penny and pulling the handle. If they would line up three of a kind on the reels than the machine dispensed a special token good for a pack of cigarettes at the lower right side of the machine.

To further hide that a machine gave winners cigarettes, some tokens had different numbers of stars rather than saying “2 packs” or 5 packs.” Groetchen also made a trade stimulator machine called the Ginger, which appeared on the market in June of 1937 and took the star tokens. The stars disguised the gambling nature of the machine. As with the mints tokens, it was probably possible to exchange tokens for cash, at least at some businesses.

So what’s a Liberty Bell Penny Cigarette Slot Machine worth?  The "Liberty" Trade Stimulator dates from the early 1940's. The basic model of this machine came in many different configurations, and model types. Many still exist today. This trade stimulator still holds it's own with an average value of $200 in today’s market, despite surviving in great numbers.

During the peak of popularity for trade stimulators, a lot of companies copied each others’ models and gave them different names. However, collectors today are well aware of the many reproduction trade stimulators that have been flooding the market. Even though some began to appear as early as the late 1970’s, most came on the market in the mid-80’s.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

Step Right Up and Try Your Luck

QUESTION: I just inherited my mother’s collection of carnival glass. I always admired it while growing up, but she never really told me much about it. Now that I have it, I’d like to continue collecting, but I have no idea where to begin. Can you give me some background on carnival glass and also some tips on growing and maintaining my mother’s collection?

ANSWER: Carnival Glass is pressed glass—glass that has been formed by being pressed into a mold while in a hot molten form—that has had an iridescent coating applied. As it cools, it takes on the shape and detail of the mold. Once removed from the mold, and while still somewhat hot, the glassmaker sprays it with metallic salts in liquid form which gives it an "oil-on-water" multicolor appearance. He then refires the piece.

The Fenton Glass of Williamston, West Virginia, first produced carnival glass, which it called "iridescent ware," in 1907. The company called its first line Iridill and labeled it "Venetian Art."  They wanted to mass-produce a product that could compete with the expensive, iridescent art glass made by Tiffany and Steuben. Though half a dozen companies, including Northwood, Imperial, Millersburg, Westmoreland, Dugan, and Cambridge, originally made it, Fenton did so longer than any of the others.

Competition became so fierce between makers that new patterns appeared regularly, so each company ended up making a wide range of patterns of most types adding up to a panoply of choice.

Its eye-catching multicolor shimmer seems to change colors when viewed at different angles. Over the years, carnival glass has been dubbed "Taffeta," "Cinderella," and "Poor Man's Tiffany," as it gave the average housewife the ability to adorn her home with fancy vases and decorative bowls a prices she could afford.
   
But this new type of glass didn’t catch on with the public the way Fenton had hoped, especially since they tried pricing it higher than their regular pieces without the carnival finish. Unfortunately, most consumers didn't see carnival glass as quality glass and refused to pay higher prices for it. Other glass manufacturers soon began making carnival glass using the same iridization techniques. This overloaded the market and soon prices plummeted. To get rid of their excess inventory, carnival glass makers at first began giving it away to carnival owners to use as prizes, but later sold sample pieces to them in hopes that winners could then purchase additional items in the same or a similar pattern. Together all the manufacturers produced over 2,000 different patterns.

This new market for carnival glass was a boon for Fenton, which produced iridescent ware in 150 patterns up until the late 1920s. Carnival glass sold for pennies at five-and-dime stores, and businesses could buy it wholesale at minimal cost. This allowed movie theaters and grocery stores to give it away as premiums. For example, Imperial Glass struck lucrative deals with companies like Woolsworth's and Quaker Oats.

Fenton's earliest patterns included Waterlily and Cattails, Vintage, Butterfly and Berries, Peacock Tail, Ribbon Tie, Wreath of Roses, Thistle, and Diamond and Rib. Among Northwood's first glass patterns were Waterlily and Cattails, Cherry and Cable, and Valentine, but Grape and Cable became their most popular. Millersburg collectors look for Hobstar and Feather, Blackberry Wreath, and Rays and Ribbons.

Collectors call the most popular color of carnival glass “marigold,” although the companies, themselves, didn’t call it that. Marigold has a clear glass base and is the most easily recognizable carnival color. The final surface colors of marigold are mostly a bright orange-gold turning perhaps to copper with small areas showing rainbow or 'oil-slick' highlights. The highlights appear mostly on ridges in the pattern and vary in strength according to the light.

Carnival glass is highly collectible. Prices vary widely, with some pieces worth very little, while other, rare items command thousands of dollars.

However, identifying carnival glass can be a challenge. It involves matching patterns, colors, sheen, edges, and thickness from information contained in old manufacturer's trade catalogs, other known examples, or other reference material. Many manufacturers didn’t include a maker's mark on their product, and some did for only part of the time they produced the glass. Since many manufacturers produced close copies of their rivals' popular patterns, carnival glass identification can be difficult even for an expert.

By 1925, carnival glass started to fall out of favor with Americans, and many U.S. glass companies quit producing it during the Great Depression.

For Every Meat There is a Turn

QUESTION: I love old mechanical things. Recently while rooting through a box of old junk at a monthly flea market, I came across an unusual item. It looks like a round can from which protrudes a cylinder. On the end of the cylinder is an odd-shaped ring and in the side of the can is a hole with a place to insert a key. Can you tell me what this is and something about it, if that’s possible?

ANSWER: It looks like you’ve found an antique spitjack. However, some of its parts are missing.

Today, you can go to any supermarket and purchase a fully roasted rotisserie chicken or turkey breast. But back in the 18th century, that wasn’t possible. All meats had to be slow roasted on a long pole called a spit over the fire in a huge, walk-in kitchen fireplace. And to do that evenly, it took man or woman power. Wives, children, servants, or slaves had to stand by the fire and slowly turn the meat until it was done. This had to be one of the most boring jobs in the 18th and early 19th centuries, so no one enjoyed doing it.

Roasting meat on a spit dates as far back as the first century B.C.E. During Tudor times, someone even came up with an ingenious way to have a dog provide the power to turn the spit—the dog ran in a treadmill linked to the spit by belts and pulleys. But it wasn’t until the 18th century that things got a little easier for cooks. It was then that the weight or clock jack came into being.

Descending stone, iron, or lead weights powered most of the spit-turning mechanisms, or more commonly spitjacks, used by Colonials and their British counterparts. In England, cooks referred to them as weight jacks, but in America, they came to be known as clock jacks because they used a clockwork mechanism to wind a spring used to turn the spit.

Earlier jacks of this type had a train of two arbors or spindles. Later ones had a more efficient train with three arbors. Those made and used in England had a governor or flywheel set above the engine as opposed to being located within the frame and to one side—to the right for a two train works and to the left for one with three trains. These weight jacks also contained a flywheel within the frame, usually at the
in a bell-like arch at the highest part of the frame.

In 1792, John Bailey II, an American clockmaker, patented the first steam-driven jack. However, the Turks used a mechanism similar to Bailey’s jack back in the mid-16th century.

Another type of roasting jack, the smoke jack, appeared in the early 17th century. This jack moved by the flow of the smoke from the fire over the sails of a horizontal wheel which lay sideways. By placing the wheel in the narrowest part of the chimney where the motion of the smoke was the fastest and where the greatest amount would strike the sails, the mechanism would slowly turn the spit, thus roasting the meat. But this type of jack had its downside since the speed of the jack depended on the draught of the chimney and the quantity and strength of the fire in the fireplace.

The type of jack you purchased is called a bottle jack because of its bottle-shaped hydraulic lifting device. A brass shell contains the clockwork motor. Introduced in the late 18th century, it replaced the earlier and simpler dangle spit. When the cook set the weights, the spit turned, eliminating the need for manual labor for approximately 30 minutes, after which the cook would have had to readjust the weights. Bottle jacks continued to be made and used until the early 20th century.

If your jack had all of its parts and was in better condition, it would sell for around $400.

A Cabinet for Chocolates

QUESTION: We recently purchased a Vassar Display Cabinet. It’s in perfect condition with all original glass, shelving, doors, etc. The top was to contain blocks of ice, and there’s a small door at the very bottom where the ice would drain when melting. Is there anything you can tell me about it? I've found very little on the Internet.

ANSWER: You’re the proud owner of a commercial refrigerated chocolate cabinet that would have been used in candy and chocolate shops. At the turn of the 20th century, Vassar Chocolates was one of the top brands of gift-boxed chocolates, similar to Whitman’s today.

But to fully understand your cabinet and the contents it held, we have to look at the background of two companies–the company that made the cabinet and the company that made the chocolates.

The O.D. Royer Manufacturing Company began making refrigerated display cabinets in 1901—a patent date of March 26, 1901 appears on the brass handles on the box doors. They were unique because of their see-through sides. These enabled store and shop owners to display a variety of perishable goods, including chocolates and cheeses. The company moved from Downing, Wisconsin, to Minneapolis, Minnesota, before 1900. However, your cabinet has “Vassar Chocolates” painted on the front. And since Vassar Chocolates weren’t made until 1912, this dates your cabinet to that time.

The iceboxes that Royer Manufacturing made had double panes of glass about one inch apart, something that’s quite common today in double-pane insulated windows. Royer used flax straw to insulate the top ice compartment. It included a beveled mirror on the side opposite the doors. As in today’s pastry and deli display cabinets, the door side probably faced the store clerk for easy access from the back of the cabinet, while the mirror side faced the customer, making it seem as if there were more goods on display than were in the cabinet. As with other iceboxes of the time, the framework and exterior paneling are of oak.

Vassar Chocolates, a type of fudge bon-bon, sold loosely and also packaged in gift tins, were a hot item when they appeared in 1912. The Loose-Wiles Biscuit Company of Kansas City made them along with a variety of other candies and crackers. 

Established in 1902 by Joseph Loose, his brother Jacob, and John. H. Wiles, the company became the second largest manufacturer of crackers in the country by 1912. It had factories in Kansas City, Missouri, Boston, Massachusetts, Chicago, Illinois, Omaha, Nebraska, Minneapolis, Minnesota, and Dallas, Texas, and Seattle, Washington, employing nearly 2,000 workers and competed successfully with the National Biscuit Company until the 1930s.

Loose-Wiles Biscuit Company produced not only Sunshine Biscuits, but Vassar Chocolates and a general line of crackers, cakes and fine confectionery, and sold them within a 15-state area surrounding Kansas City. By 1912, it had become the largest combination cracker and candy factory in America, and its facilities for handling business, and also looking out for the welfare of its employees were second to none.

Joseph Loose envisioned a factory which would be filled with sunlight, and Loose-Wiles adopted the name Sunshine for their products. Soon they began expanding and opened new plants in Boston and then New York. In 1912 Loose-Wiles opened their "Thousand Window" bakery on Long Island, which remained the largest bakery building in the world until 1955. When sales began to slump in the 1940s, Loose petitioned the company’s board of directors to change the name to the Sunshine Biscuit Company in 1946, and in 1996, Keebler purchased it. In 2000, Kellogg purchased Keebler. The product it’s best known for is Cheeze-It Crackers.

So how did the chocolates get the name Vassar? It’s no small coincidence that the Vassar Girls, as the students of Vassar College in Poughkeepsie, New York, were commonly known, began making chocolate fudge in the late 1880s.

“Nearly every night at college,” said the Vassar girl in a newspaper ad, “some girl may be found somewhere who is making ‘fudges’ or giving a fudge party.” These fudges became known in fashionable circles as Vassar chocolates. Though mystery shrouds their origin, students at Vassar handed down the recipe from year to year. It’s most likely that the recipe, which would have become well known by the turn of the 20th century, would have been easy for Joseph Loose to procure. He added the Vassar name to his chocolate fudge bon-bons to give them class. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Determing Value

This is the 200th post of this blog. And being so, I thought I’d break away from my usual question and answer format and discuss a topic for which I receive lots of questions—value. I routinely tell everyone that I don’t do valuations. I do that because value is one of the hardest things to determine without lots of expert information. That’s why certified appraisers are in such high demand. But they’re expensive, so most people seek free value advice.

Value of any kind is subjective. It depends on several things—age, rarity, authenticity, trendiness, and historical association. Just because an item is old doesn’t make it valuable. Take glass from ancient Rome. At over two 2,000 years old, you’d think it would be worth a fortune. But the truth is there’s so much of it around that it isn’t worth as much as you’d think.

Throughout history, people had as much junk as we have today. But they didn’t value things in quite the same way as we do today. For ordinary people, old furniture was just old furniture. Old dishes were often mismatched. Let’s face it, they didn’t have “Antiques Roadshow” to make them think that just about everything was valuable.

To determine an item’s value, you first have to determine its age. The type of wood used in furniture, particularly the secondary woods used for the inside of drawers, is an important clue of age. If you see a  circular saw pattern in the wood on a piece of furniture, you know it was made after 1840.

Not everything rare is valuable either. An old book by an unknown author might be extremely rare. But to be valuable, someone must want to buy it. Nevertheless, rarity is a key determinant of value. Start by considering how rare an item was when it first appeared on the market.

Think in terms of different levels of production. At the bottom are mass-produced items made of ordinary and usually cheaper materials. At the top are unique items made of the finest materials. Generally, if an item was rare and valuable when it was made, it'll be even more rare and valuable today. Previously expensive objects will still be expensive today.

When an antique or collectible is in demand by collectors, it’s price can skyrocket. And when prices climb, fakes and forgeries abound. Some forgers use as much skill producing fakes as if they were making an original. Fraudulent antiques lie in wait for the uninformed. A good example is the myriad of fake Chippendale furniture coming out of Indonesia.

Perfectly round wood in a piece of furniture, for example, is a tell-tale sign of a forgery, because wood becomes distorted with age. Look carefully at ceramics to see if someone painted the decoration on top of the glaze after the firing.

When it comes to collecting antiques, condition is prime. Did you know that the patina on fine furniture----produced before 1830—is one of its most important features, and too much cleaning and restoration can ruin it? Did you know, for example, that the value of a rare book can drop by more than 100 percent if it doesn't have its dust jacket?

Another thing that influences value is how typical an item is. Collectors are always looking for representative examples of a given period, craft or style. When an item sparks a collecting trend, prices always go up.

Finally, an object’s association with someone famous automatically increases its value. That’s because more collectors want to own it. And that’s the bottom line with value. The more people who want to own an object, the more its worth. And an item is only worth what the last person paid for it.

I hope you find this post as useful as the previous 199. I’ve enjoyed writing this blog and plan to continue bringing you insightful information about antiques and collectibles. For more in-depth articles, please visit The Antique Almanac, my new monthly E-zine on antiques and collectibles. You’ll never know what you’ll learn next.

The Bluebird of Happiness

QUESTION: Some time ago, I purchased six dinner plates, each with a large bluebird design on it, from a church sale. I love the bold design on these plates and have yet to see any others like them. On the back is the mark of the Buffalo Pottery. I thought they only made restaurant china. What can you tell me about my plates.

ANSWER: What you bought is commonly known as bluebird chinaware. The large, bold bluebird on your plates is one of over 50 different variations made by as many potteries. And while Buffalo Pottery did make a lot of restaurant china, they also made some for home use.

Bluebird china was everyday dinnerware. It was mostly made in America, beginning in the late 19th century. It featured  a decal of a bluebird, often with flowers or other designs incorporated into it.  Potteries made this china to be functional, and being so, it often broke from daily use. In many cases, started  out as a grocery store premium, perhaps a free gift received after collecting the required number of stamps. People could also buy complete sets from the Montgomery Ward Catalog and from Sears Roebuck & Co.

By the mid-1920s, bluebird china was available everywhere. But its popularity didn’t last long since by the end of the decade, manufacturers had begun phasing it out. By 1930, it had all but disappeared.

While many Ohio potteries, especially those in the vicinity of East Liverpool, made bluebird china, collectors prefer that made by the Homer Laughlin China Company. The pottery most often decorated its Empress dinnerware, which it introduced in 1914, with bluebirds. The company also decorated some of its other dinnerware shapes with bluebird decals, include Cable, Hudson, Kwaker, Newell, Republic, Riviera, and Tea Rose.

Homer Laughlin usually used a design showing two or three chubby bluebirds surrounded by differing shades of pink flowering apple blossom branches. Other potteries also produced china with the same motif which seemed strange. As it turns out, Ohio Valley potteries all bought their decals from the same company, Meyercord Decal, in Chicago.

Other potteries outside of Ohio also made their own versions of bluebird china. The most important of these was the Buffalo Pottery of New York. Many collectors seek out pieces by Homer Laughlin with decals showing bluebirds in flight that the company used on its wares. The bluebirds found on Buffalo Pottery wares appear to fly in flocks across the surface of each piece. Buffalo also sold bluebird dishes to restaurants.

The Larkin Soap Company first introduced a butter tub with a drainer and pitchers, both sporting bluebird designs, as a premium in its 1918-1919 catalog. Larkin’s catalogs from 1919 to 1922 featured a bluebird tea set consisting of tea plates, cups and saucers, sugar and creamer. Larkin also offered special pieces, like a baby dish, that could be specially ordered.

Another bluebird variation popular with collectors is the Flying Blue Bird pattern produced by Knowles, Taylor & Knowles of East Liverpool, Ohio. While the bluebird decals used by Homer Laughlin depict a small, pale blue, plump bird, KT&K's bluebird decals show large, bold birds in rich dark blues that seem to be circling around the china's outer edges. KT&K put their bluebird decal on pottery from their white Nina line, making the bluebirds stand out even more.

In order to compete with American bluebird china makers, European potteries began adhering bluebird decals to their dinnerware. This was odd since bluebirds aren't native to Europe.

There are many variations of the bluebird designs. D.E. McNicol Pottery, also of East Liverpool, made calendar plates with a finer, stylized bluebird floating between each month's calendar page on the plate's rim. The Edward J. Owen China Co. of Minerva, Ohio, often used a decal showing one or two bluebirds in flight among flowering rose branches.

As far as the value of bluebird china, shape doesn't seem to enter into it. Plates are common and sell for around $35 while rare large pitchers sell for lots more. Collectors especially seek the larger pitchers. A 6 3/4 inch water pitcher, made by the Buffalo Pottery, can sell for as high as $200.

And finding items in good condition is also a challenge since people used this dinnerware. Items like egg cups, salt and pepper shakers, and complete tea sets are particularly hard to find.

China decorated with bluebirds was especially popular because of what the birds represented. The 1920s was a time of optimism and the bluebird became synonymous with that. Bluebirds became a symbol of rebirth and renewal as well. Bluebirds and happiness seem to go together.

A Penny a Light

QUESTION: I love quirky old machines. Recently, I purchased a penny vending machine that I think held matches from an online auction. The seller couldn’t tell me much about it, but it’s in pretty good condition. It looks like it stood on a counter or table and stands 13½ inches tall. The machine seems to be made of cast white metal, but the slot that the penny drops through is made of wood. Unfortunately, the machine came with no label on it, so I have no idea who made it. An unusual feature is a cigar tip cutter which sits at the front of the base. Can you tell me who made this vending machine and how old it is. 

ANSWER: From what you described, I’d say you have a Sellem match vending machine, most likely produced around 1912 by the Northwestern Corporation of Chicago, which also produced a varied line of gumball machines.

Northwestern released 70 different machines under the Sellem name, starting in 1911. In addition to the Sellem match vending machine, the company also produced stamp vending machines and another type called Penny Matches.

The Sellem line was the deluxe model of the Northwestern match vendor line. The top, front and base are all made in the beautiful Art Nouveau style from cast iron, not white metal as you supposed. Two dolphins decorate the front of this machine. The Sellem was the firm’s  only model to have a cigar cutter and matchbox holder, both of which enticed customers to the machine and reminded them to buy a box of matches.

The Sellem came in two models. The A model had frames attached to the machine's sides and top that contained advertising panels and the more common B model, which seems to be what you have. The company also made a third version for a private match company, called The Scup. The Sellem dispensed small cardboard boxes of matches. The front of the machine had a holder that would hold the last box dispensed. These machines originally came in white, green or antique silver, and sometimes had brass-colored accents. 

Back in 1912, you would have most likely found your machine sitting on a table in the smoking lounge of a fine hotel. It was the custom of gentlemen at the time to smoke cigars after dinner. When a gentleman inserted a penny, it would drop through the wooden piece and allow the push bar to go back and forth. The machine also had a removable match loading compartment which often is missing on ones appearing for sale today. The cigar tip cutter was an added feature that enabled smokers to prepare their cigar before lighting.

Sellem vending machines sell for between $300 and $400. However, a fine one sold at auction for $960, but that’s rare.