"Vengeance in his aspect": When a Whale Hunted a Ship

The trailer for the big Hollywood movie of Nathaniel Philbrick’s book In the Heart of the Sea: the Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex (G530.E76 2000X NMAH) is out and it is terrifying. The true saga of the Essex inspired aspects of Moby Dick, or the title as it originally was published, The Whale, thirty years after the ship was sunk by a furious sperm whale in the southern Pacific Ocean. Herman Melville himself is part of the movie story, interviewing one of the survivors.

As it happens, I just cataloged for the Cullman Library a chapbook, an inexpensive form of publication usually illustrated with lively if simple woodcuts, which narrates this “most remarkable” tale of the Essex, the ill-fated voyage that began in Nantucket in 1819. Stories About the Whale: with an Account of the Whale Fishery, and the Perils Attending its Prosecution, was published in Concord, New Hampshire in 1850 (PZ10.3 .S881850 SCNHRB) and was rather crudely printed. The title page serves as the cover, with the text (24 pages in all) printed on a single sheet which was then folded and stitched with no binding. Issued a year before Melville’s masterpiece, the chapbook indicates how big and potent the tale was in 19^th-century America. This piece of juvenile literature, in a section with caption title “Shipwrecks and Disasters,” warns boys of the dangers of the industry “as the whales often dash to pieces the boats in which the sailors go out to attack them” and a much quicker read of the Essex story in three pages than Moby Dick!  

Owen Chase was the first mate on the Essex and lived to pen Narrative of the Most Extraordinary and Distressing Shipwreck of the Whale-ship Essex of Nantucket in 1821. There are reprints in the Smithsonian Libraries (G530.E72 1989X, Kellogg Library), attesting to the staying power of the tragedy. The Captain, George Pollard, was also among the eight survivors; he endured an excruciating three months on one of the small whaleboats. Perhaps it is Chase or Pollard who is heard narrating the disaster in the film clip; most of the others wrote an account, which vary in the details, not surprisingly (for more of the story, click on this article in Smithsonian Magazine).

Captain Pollard, still a young man, returned to the sea but suffered other mishaps and became feared as a “Jonah.” In the second volume of Journal of Voyages and Travels by the Rev. Daniel Tyerman and George Bennet (Boston: Published by Crocker and Brewster, 1832; BV3705.T8 T979 1832 SCNHRB) the missionary Bennet details an encounter in Tahiti in April 1823 with a broken Pollard after the Captain had lost another ship. The author transcribed Pollard’s account, his “singular and lamentable story,” which included – spoiler alert! – cannibalism. Pollard concluded: “But I can tell you no more–my head is on fire at the recollection.”

The Smithsonian’s own expert on whales, Curator Emeritus of Marine Mammals James G. Mead, stands in this photograph before a bookcase once owned by Melville, a whaler himself, that holds an array of copies of Moby Dick, including the very first and rare printing, published in London in October 1851, which was followed one month later by another edition in New York. This collection of Melvilleana is in the Rosenbach Museum and Library in Philadelphia. Dr. Mead points to one of its many treasures, the copy of Moby Dick that was owned by its dedicatee, Nathaniel Hawthorne.

Alas, the Smithsonian does not hold any of the earlier issues of Moby Dick, but it does have Sam Ita’s Moby-Dick: a Pop-Up Book (New York: Sterling Publishers, c2007) that tells the tale in abridged and highly inventive form (PZ7.I89617 Mob 2007 CHMRB). 
 

"Stove by a whale!": the sinking of the Pequod

The movie's preview clip. 

Julia Blakely
Smithsonian Libraries  

For more on Whales and the Smithsonian, please see "A Whale of a Tale," a recent posting in the Smithsonian Institution Archives blog. 

Ephemeral Thoughts during the Waning Days of Summer

Dawn at the Tidal Basin, April 2014 (photo by Julia Blakely)

The spectacular display of the capital cherry trees of this year is but a happy, distant memory and the gardens of Washington have that hot, exhausted look of August, escaping into a rare gardening book is in order. The Cullman Library has a survivor of an ephemeral form of publication—nursery trade catalogs—that are valuable not only for their pictures (documenting different techniques of illustrating processes) but as research sources on introduction of plants into the trade as well as trends in horticultural fashion. L. Boehmer & Co. in Yokohama, Japan, produced for the 1899-1900 season the Catalogue of Japanese lilybulbs, iris and other flower roots, trees, shrubs, plants, seeds, etc.

Front cover of the Catalogue of Japanese lilybulbs, iris and other flower roots ...

Bonsai trees were just beginning to be imported into the United States in the late nineteenth century. One of the earliest collections, bought in 1913 from the Yokohama Nursery by the departing American Ambassador, is at Harvard University’s Arnold Arboretum. And Washington’s famed cherry trees were a gift to the city from Tokyo in 1912. There were examples of importations from the mid-nineteenth century. Famed botanist and plant explorer David Fairchild and his wife, Marian, the younger daughter of the Smithsonian’s own Alexander Graham Bell, did much to beautify Washington, D.C. Along with their friend Barbour Lathrop, they introduced various varieties of Japanese cherries to the United States in 1903 and 1905, again from the Yokohama Nursery. Some of these were planted in the Fairchild’s home in nearby Chevy Chase, Maryland. For more on this history, with links to the Library of Congress's research on the first cherry trees in the District, please click here.

So it is interesting to find fruit, ornamental, dwarf trees and shrubs in the stock listed in the catalog (QK369 .B67c 1899 SCNHRB), as stated on the title page, of “L. Boehmer & Co., nurserymen & exporters of Japanese bulbs, seeds, plants, &c. … Yokohama, Japan … the only European nursery firm in Japan, established 1882.” Appealing to a well-to-do, sophisticated clientele, there are delicate hand-colored wood-block illustrations, bound-in illustrated printed wrappers, with silk ties. Although the text is all in English, the leaves are double-folded, Japanese style and printed by T. Hasegawa, publisher & art printer, Tokyo, Japan. An imaginative artist wittily combined images with the printed words.

This example, along with other nursery catalogs in the Smithsonian Libraries, can also reveal hints at the propagation history of specific plants, seed cleaning, packing and shipping methods, and prices, as well as changing styles in landscape design. Or, rather than research, the catalogs can provide inspiration—one can dream of a time of planting something new and exotic and while wandering around the gardens, enjoying cool weather.  

 

Soon The Ephemera Society of America will hold its board meeting in Washington D.C. (September 13, 2014). Events surrounding the gathering will include visits to several collections of the Smithsonian Libraries, to view such items as trade literature, including perhaps this truly rare nursery catalog, only one other copy of the 1899 imprint is known to exist.

 

Julia Blakely
Smithsonian Libraries

Root Beer Blast from the Past!

Root beer is a small but powerful example of modern print advertising techniques in 19th century America.  The Warshaw Collection of Business Americana holds hundreds of trade cards, advertisements and ephemera.  The collection is organized into hundreds of categories ranging from agriculture to World’s Fairs, and root beer advertisements are found in the “Beverage” series of the Warshaw Collection.  The root beer companies exemplify new marketing schemes and a new way to make profit in patent medicines and “healthful” beverages.  There is also a large “Patent Medicine” series in the Warshaw Collection.

Hires Rootbeer trade card, ca. 1900.

The late 19th century, often known as the Progressive Era, was a time of shifting social customs.  Large corporations sprang up as smaller companies were absorbed or were run out of business.  New manufacturers such as Hires Rootbeer sent their products around the country to local grocers, druggists, and chemists, creating standardized nation-wide products.   Trade cards advertising Hires Rootbeer often give a local name and address to find the product, such as “S.O. Tarbox, Groceries and Drugs, Farmington, Me.”  Hires Rootbeer demonstrates the new way companies sold goods to a national market instead of merely a local one.

Some companies used games or pseudoscience to market their product.  Knapp’s Root Beer used palmistry on an advertisement for their root beer to attract more customers.  The drawing of a hand marked with letters corresponds to explanations on the back which supposedly indicate personality traits of the viewer.  Using palmistry on an advertisement attracted a new group of consumers to the brand.  People learned about the product while looking at the advertisement to figure out what their hands allegedly said about themselves.  Without the palmistry “hook,” consumers might not have given the advertisement a second look.  It is similar to the sponsorship that companies participate in today.  When Coca-Cola sponsors the World Cup they are getting brand notoriety, comparable to Knapp’s Root Beer palmistry.




Trade card for Knapps Root Beer, ca. 1900.

Verso of trade card at left.

Root beer advertisers also took part in the widely-used marketing scheme of patent medicines. Prevalent in the 19th century in America, patent medicines were non-regulated goods that a druggist or chemist would sell to the public claiming (mostly false) cures for common illnesses.  Dr. Buker’s Root and Herb Beer promised to be “a purifier of the blood” and “a stimulator of the digestive organs.”

Trade card for Allen's Root Beer Extract. 

Dr. Buker's Root and Herb Beer
advertising flyer.

Bryant’s Root Beer was used as “a general stimulant” and “a nerve tonic.”  Allen’s Root Beer Extract claimed not only to act “upon the Kidneys and Liver,” but to furnish “the most valuable elements of nutrition.” The unfounded claims of root beer producers demonstrate an attempt to profit from the budding consumer culture.

Bryant's Root Beer trade card.

Bryant's Root Beer trade card. Verso of card above.

 

Trade card for Raser's Root Beer Extract.

Similarly, Raser’s Root Beer believed in their product enough to warn their buyers to “Beware of worthless imitations.” Ironically, Raser’s root beer itself is an imitation of medicine, despite offering no proof of its promise as a “nerve strengthening beverage.” The advertisements never stated what ingredients of the root beer made it “nerve strengthening,” making the words dubious at best.  Questionable descriptions and claims such as these led to the Pure Food and Drug Act of 1906 passed by President Theodore Roosevelt, partly in an attempt to weed out false claims and misleading information.  The root beer trade cards in the Warshaw Collection of Business Americana are a minuscule part of Warshaw’s collection, but they tell a story of America’s early days of modern advertising.

-- Halle Mares, Intern,
Archives Center,
National Museum of American History









All images shown here are from items in the "Beverages" series, ca. 1880-1920, Warshaw Collection of Business Americana, Archives Center, National Museum of American History.

Exploring a Renaissance Rarity in the Dibner Library

In the auspicious year of 1543, a book in German, Evangelien vnd Epistlen des Neϋwen Testaments (The Gospels and Letters of the New Testament; qBS239 1543 SCDIRB) was printed in the ancient Alsatian town of Colmar. Compiled by one Ambrosius Kempff, the work contains almost all of the New Testament and some of the Old Testament arranged in the order of the days of the Church calendar. As in a typical Roman Catholic lectionary, each selection was to be read on a certain day of the year. While the Dibner Library is primarily known for its history of science collections, it also contains several Bibles and other religious works, and we were pleased to be given this example on several accounts.

It is indeed a rare volume, with no other recorded copies in the United States and only a handful in European collections. Evangelien vnd Epistlen des Neϋwen Testaments appears in none of the standard reference works. It does get a mention in John M. Frymire’s The Primacy of the Postils (2010) which states it is written “Catholic” in the tradition of Erasmian humanism.

The Bewitched Groom

Interspersed among the 269 leaves of Fraktur letterpress are over a hundred woodcut illustrations by various artists, some of intriguing quality. This work could prove to be a rich source of analysis by an art historian as some of the woodcuts are by that most gifted and strange student of Albrecht Dürer’s, Hans Baldung, called Grien (d. 1545). Known as a painter—one familiar work is Three Ages of Woman and Death (Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna, 1510)—he was also a printmaker with a preoccupation with mortality and sorcery. One of Grien’s best known prints is the erotically charged The Bewitched Groom (1544).

The 1540s were a dynamic period for publishing: not only were significant works related to the Protestant Reformation printed but also announcements of new strides in the field of science. The year 1543 in particular is a major milestone in history of science literature, marked with exceptionally significant publications. In the field of astronomy, Nicolaus Copernicus (1473-1543) produced De revolutionibusorbium coelestium (On the Revolutions of the Heavenly Spheres) in Nuremberg, providing arguments, based entirely on mathematical calculations, for the heliocentric universe. In mathematics, the first modern European language edition of Euclid's Elements appeared in Venice, translated into Italian by Niccolò Fontana Tartaglia (d. 1557). And in medicine, Andreas Vesalius's Dehumani corporis fabrica (On the Fabric of the Human Body) was edited and printed in Basel by Johannes Oporinus (1507-1568). The profusely illustrated volume transformed the science of human anatomy by promoting direct observation in addition to (or many times countering) classical medical knowledge. These books of 1543 foreshadowed a new scientific era, the Scientific Revolution in the same year when Evangelien vnd Epistlen manifested the rich new religious literature.

This donation contained a pleasant surprise: it has a 19^th-century armorial bookplate although without an accompanying name. However, thanks to online resources, notably the Ex Libris Chronicle of the American Society of Bookplate Collectors (formed in Washington, D.C. in 1922), the previous owner could be quickly identified by the motto and coat-of-arms. Evangelien vnd Epistlen des Neϋwen Testaments once belonged to a great bibliophile, Prince Augustus Frederick, Duke of Sussex (1773-1843). He was the sixth son (of fifteen children) of King George III. His vast library of some 50,000 volumes was housed in Kensington Palace, where some members of the Royal family still live. The Duke’s librarian happened to also be his surgeon, Thomas Joseph Pettigrew, who produced catalogues of the collection as well as books on other topics. Pettigrew’s Medical Portrait Gallery (London, [1838?-1840]; R134 .P52 1838 SCDIRB) is on the Dibner shelves. Alas, the Duke had amassed huge debts (in no small part because of his collecting habits) so soon after his death the books and manuscripts were sold at auction and the library’s contents scattered. This volume is the only one in the Smithsonian Libraries identified with this provenance.

The manuscript inscription and armorial bookplate

But there was more interesting history to uncover in this one book. A handwritten inscription above the Duke’s bookplate seemed matter-of-fact at first glance: Jacob A. Westervelt to his daughter Eliza M. Westervelt / 1864. The names did not appear in either the Smithsonian Libraries online catalog nor in the Library of Congress or the Virtual International Authority File. However, one very good Wikipedia entry pinpointed the identities of these two:  Jacob Westervelt (1800-1879) was a famous shipbuilder whose long career included constructing 247 vessels, and who also served as mayor of New York City, from 1853 to 1855. One of his accomplishments was placing the police force, against great resistance, in uniforms for the first time. An 1885 portrait of Westervelt by Edward Ludlow Mooney is in the Smithsonian American Art Museum. Eliza Mariette (1841-1891) was the youngest of his eight children. 

The donor of the Evangelien vnd Epistlen is Mr. Theron Patrick, Commander United States Coast Guard (Retired) who recently visited the Dibner Library and the Book Conservation Laboratory of the Smithsonian Libraries. We very much appreciate his interest in our collections and we thank him for donating such a fascinating volume.

Julia Blakely and Lilla Vekerdy,

with the help of Diane Shaw, Special Collections Librarians, Smithsonian Libraries

The illustration of The Bewitched Groom is from Wikimedia Commons, all others are from the Lectionary, Evangelien vnd Epistlen.

Edith Wharton on Italian Villas and their Gardens

Front cover of the 1904 edition of Italian Villas and Their Gardens

Now that spring has finally arrived in the Washington, D.C. area after a very cold and snowy winter, it’s not surprising to have a beautiful book on gardens catch the eye. This gorgeous book, Italian Villas and Their Gardens by Edith Wharton, has been recently transferred from the Smithsonian Libraries’ Botany and Horticulture Library to the Joseph F. Cullman 3rd Library of Natural History. The volume was brought to my attention by our contract rare materials cataloger, Julia Blakely, who incidentally has been doing historical research on the gardens of the British Ambassador’s residence in Washington and who has quite an eye for a great book with a gardening theme.

The gifted American novelist Edith Wharton (1862-1937), whose extensive travels included visits to some of the finest aristocratic homes and estates of Europe, was well qualified to describe the glories of Italian villas and their fine gardens. Her book is organized geographically, with chapters on Florence, Siena, Rome and its outskirts, Genoa, Lombardy, and the Veneto.  Keenly interested in landscape design, Wharton included an appendix with short biographies of the architects and garden designers mentioned in her book. Her critical eye for the differing tastes and habits of upper class Americans and Europeans, as outlined in this book, comes across in statements such as this one, from page 11:

[T]he old Italian garden was meant to be lived in —a use to which, at least in America, the modern garden is seldom put.

Italian Villas and Their Gardens includes 26 pictorial plates by Maxfield Parrish (1870-1966), one of the greatest illustrators of the early 20th century. His artistry here, emphasizing curved lines, saturated colors, and the beauty of nature, shows the influence of the international Art Nouveau movement that flourished during this time, a style exquisitely suited to a book on grand villas and gardens.

The sumptuous bookbinding, in dark green cloth stamped with light green, blue, white, brown, and gold, features a colorful garden scene with a fountain, an elegant wall, and stately cypress trees, framed by substantial gilt-stamped Italian Mannerist-style banners with lions and coats of arms. The bookbinding was designed by the Decorative Designers company, identified by the mark of two interlocking letter “D’s”( with the second D reversed) which appears on the lower right side of the front cover.

Bookplate of Walter Goodman Chard and Kathleen Stevens Chard

The Cullman Library’s copy of Italian Villas and Their Gardens was formerly owned by Walter Goodman Chard and Kathleen Stevens Chard, and has their bookplate, which is signed in the lower right corner by the unidentified designer “RRMcG” and dated 1907. The volume is inscribed on the front free endpaper by Walter Goodman Chard to Kathleen Brooks Stevens, Christmas, 1904; the couple was later married in January 1907 and then added the bookplate with their conjoined names. Walter and Kathleen Chard lived together on a 350 acre model farm named Meadowood, in Cazenovia, New York, where they were among the first in the area to use sustainable practices in raising a variety of livestock and crops. Walter Chard also served as the business manager for his brother, architect Thornton Chard, who designed the large, gracious farm house at Meadowood. Given the Chards’ keen interest in architecture and landscape design, it is easy to see how Wharton’s lovely book on Italian Villas and Their Gardens would have been a treasured addition to their personal library.

Italian Villas and Their Gardens by Edith Wharton; illustrated with pictures by Maxfield Parrish and by photographs. New York: Published by the Century Company; printed at the De Vinne Press, 1904.

Call number:  DG420 .W55 1904 SCNHRB Joseph F. Cullman 3rd Library of Natural History


--Diane Shaw, Special Collections Cataloger, with assistance from Julia Blakely and Daria Wingreen-Mason

Celebrity Endorsements: Commerce, Credibility, and Cataloguing

One of the mixed joys of being the SIRIS cataloguing coordinator/editor for the NMAH Archives Center is the “opportunity” to correct and enhance old records, many of them entered by interns and volunteers in connection with scanning projects.  It isn’t easy to distinguish a preliminary catalog record intended for later enhancement from a simply incomplete, incorrect, or misleading description.  In the case of images, whether photographic or hand-rendered, and photomechanical reproductions from such originals, one fundamental issue for me is the need for a description of both the image being scanned and the object on which the image resides.  This might mean simply indicating the support for a photograph (e.g., paper, glass, film), or it might require a description or name for an object upon or in which an image has been painted, printed, or otherwise applied.  Sometimes I discover that someone scanned and catalogued an image from a calendar or book without naming the object containing the image.  Some attempt should be made to describe the object containing the image, not merely the pictorial image.  To me, this is a more fundamental step than searching for Library of Congress authority terms for tagging.  I think an accurate, concise MARC 245 field is a thing of beauty!

Point-of-purchase display card for Pears' Soap, with portrait of actress Mary Anderson, 1885.
Soap series, Warshaw Collection of Business Americana, Archives Center, NMAH

Recently I encountered an intriguing SIRIS record for a soap advertisement in the Warshaw Collection of Business Americana.  Warshaw soap ads were scanned some years ago in connection with our Ivory Soap Collection of soap advertising.  These collections include advertisements for other soap brands for comparison, including the nineteenth-century Pears’ Soap.  The advertisements take a variety of forms, although the majority were printed in magazines, so the artifact may be a tear sheet.  Some items, however, are trade cards and advertisements intended for display in stores, so they may consist of card stock or other sturdy stuff, rather than flimsy magazine pages.  The Ivory Soap Collection and the soap advertisements in the Warshaw Collection can tell us not only how soap and cosmetic products were advertised in mass-distribution print media, but they also contain examples of how products were advertised inside stores to attract shoppers actively involved in decision-making about their purchases.  If an advertising card large enough to attract attention is placed with products near the establishment’s cash register, the Art and Architecture Thesaurus calls it a “point-of-purchase display,” and Library of Congress Subject Headings calls it an example of “Advertising, Point-of-sale.”  The concept, of course, is that an alluring display advertisement near the cash register (with or without the product itself, which merely needs to be accessible to the cashier) can encourage the customer to make an impulse purchase.  To be effective, point-of-purchase displays need to be timely, attractive, imaginative, clever, or some combination thereof, and customers must be made to feel that the product is desirable.  The display might be text only, or it might bear some sort of image.

One of the most effective types of advertising, as we know from contemporary media, is the use of celebrity endorsements.  The claim that a celebrity uses or recommends a product can attract and intrigue customers, especially loyal fans.  Even if a jaded public doesn’t believe the celebrity’s claim to use the product, a connection is established in potential customers’ brains, identifying a “star” with the product.  Such identification helps customers remember the product, which they might initially purchase simply out of amusement.  Embodied in the object shown here is the confluence of two strategems of advertising psychology—(a) attracting the customer’s attention at the cash register to purchase another item, and (b) appealing to endorsements by glamorous or influential celebrities to suggest that the product might help make the customer as attractive, wealthy, or influential as the celebrity.

It’s interesting that this particular celebrity endorsement served as a point-of-purchase advertisement, but the majority of such endorsements were created for various media, especially magazines and newspapers, then later radio and television—to attract customers into stores and markets.  Naturally, younger people may be totally unfamiliar with the names and faces of movie, radio, and television “stars” and celebrities from earlier generations, but how many ancient icons of popular culture can we reasonably expect them to remember?

When I finally edited the catalog record for this item, years had elapsed.  I looked at the image linked to the record, and it was clear that this reproduction of a painted portrait of a woman represented a specific famous person, and that this was an example of a celebrity endorsement of Pears’ soap (motto at lower left: “Pears Soap / The Very Best”).  I didn’t recognize the face, nor could I make out the name at the lower right, which appeared to be the signature of the subject, not the artist.  I didn’t need to look far for a transcription of the name.  It appears, along with other brief testimonials with signatures, on the verso of the card.  At the top of the list Mary Anderson is quoted as saying, “I find Pears Soap the very best,” followed by the same signature that appears on the image side of the card.  Ironically, the cataloguer knew the names Lillie Langtry and Henry Ward Beecher, whose testimonials appear under Ms. Anderson’s, and thought their names were worth entering into the record as MARC 600 fields for personal names as subject, but didn’t notice that the signature associated with Mary Anderson’s name matched the signature under the portrait.

I had no idea who Mary Anderson was.  I almost didn’t Google her on the assumption that “Mary Anderson” must be one of the most common names on the face of the earth.  On second thought, I tried, and a link for “Mary Anderson (actress, born 1859)” miraculously appeared on the first page of hits.  It led me to a Wikipedia entry, happily illustrated with the very profile portrait photograph from which I believe the advertisement portrait was painted.  She appears to be more delicately attractive in the photograph than in the painting.  She was a popular, celebrated stage actress who later appeared in silent films and who led a fascinating life that could inspire a book (she wrote two memoirs), a play, or a movie.  I never know what tangents “editing” SIRIS records may lead me on.  Perhaps I was too diverted by Mary Anderson’s life story, but at least her name now appears in the catalog record for retrieval.  I’m confident that someone will soon have a need for a portrait of her and will locate this image.
 
Many of the soap advertisements in our collections appeal to the public’s devotion to the cult of celebrity embodied by the “stars” whose beauty or charisma is so alluring.  At the same time, many of these ads include appeals to logic or common sense.  While Henry Ward Beecher’s statement, “I am willing to stand by every word in favor of it I ever uttered,” is amusingly pompous, Mary Anderson’s pronouncement of Pears’ Soap as “the very best” seems to carry weight: She is an actress, constantly in the limelight, who needs a soap that will not only cleanse her skin but will be kind to her complexion.  If a famous actress recommends a particular soap, women might well sit up and take notice.  After all, her livelihood depends partly on beauty products, and one would expect her to be discerning about soap—she must know what she’s talking about and her endorsement must be trustworthy.

Similarly, when a famous singer endorsed a particular brand of cigarettes decades later, the public might naturally assume that a vocalist would know not to abuse his or her throat and voice and accept the star’s presumably informed and tested choice.  If a crooner like Snooky Lanson could smoke Lucky Strike cigarettes (according to an ad in the Sandra and Gary Baden Collection of Celebrity Endorsements in Advertising), they must be gentle on the throat, right?  A professional singer wouldn’t risk a coughing fit on live television, would he?  (Lanson was a regular on the live show “Your Hit Parade” in the 1950s.)

The use of celebrity endorsements has waxed and waned over the years.  Some say Josiah Wedgwood was the first to use such an endorsement in the 1760s, by advertising his royal warrant, certifying that the British royal family was a regular customer of his ceramic products.  In the 21st century the phrase “by appointment to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II” is considered a benchmark of quality.  It functions as a celebrity endorsement, although one does not see photographs of Queen Elizabeth personally utilizing the product or proclaiming its virtues.  The message is far more subtle, but arguably more reliable.  The royal warrant signifies that the royal family actually purchases the product or hires the service, yet there is no appeal to exclusivity, no vulgar, direct comparison to competing products or services.  There is merely the proof of purchase which the phrase “by appointment to” elegantly signifies.  It means simply “we buy it, and you know how fussy we can be.”

Indeed, the personalized celebrity endorsements with which we are familiar sometimes leave a funny taste in our mouths.  We don’t always trust the movie, television, and recording stars and their endorsements, as we sometimes suspect that many of them will do anything for money and we don’t honestly believe their enthusiasm over the consumer products they hype—they’re actors, after all.  In the 21st century we’re too sophisticated to really believe in endorsements--aren’t we?  They’re just another form of entertainment, and stars’ names are associated with certain products just to raise visibility and name recognition, not necessarily to convince consumers of celebrities’ heartfelt enthusiasm and brand loyalty.  There currently seems to be a trend away from celebrity endorsements, as some authors suggest that they are not cost-effective, and businesses are jittery about star misbehavior as well, having found that sales sometimes plummet when their spokespersons become involved in scandals.

Nevertheless, I still fervently want to believe that the famous actress Mary Anderson actually used Pears’ Soap in the late nineteenth century and found it superior, and now her name has been reunited with her endorsement.  As you may know, Pears’ soap is still manufactured and is still distinctive.  It was the world’s first registered brand and is therefore the world’s oldest continuously existing brand.  According to Wikipedia, “Lillie Langtry’s famous ivory complexion brought her income as the first woman to endorse a commercial product, advertising Pears Soap.”  And Mary Anderson soon followed.

(No, I’m not endorsing Pears soap.  Never tried it.)

David Haberstich
Curator of Photography
Archives Center, National Museum of American History
   

This Catalog of Matchbook Cover Designs Should Strike Your Fancy!



Front cover of the Match Corporation of
America Catalog & Price List

The Cooper-Hewitt, National Design Museum Library in New York City recently acquired a promotional catalog issued by the Match Corporation of America that features sample designs for commercial advertisements printed on matchbook covers. The catalog, copyrighted in 1958, is billed as "the light way to profitable advertising." There are over 180 pages of color and black-and-white images, advertising everything from restaurants and bars to gas stations and political campaigns. The volume includes numerous samples of matchbook covers (without the matches, of course!). Browsing through the pages, you're catapulted mentally back into the days when a pack of cigarettes could be found in many Americans' pockets. For business owners, these simple little cardboard folders offered a big opportunity to advertise their services and build a bit of customer loyalty by supplying their patrons with the small, practical gift of a few matches.

Stock designs for match covers advertising
bars and restaurants

The catalog includes examples of standard matchbook sizes, ranging from 10 to 240 stems. Advertisers could use the hundreds of stock illustrations provided by the catalog, or commission a custom design for a special event. The lively graphic designs and snappy short texts ranging from utilitarian to mildly salacious attest to the visual appeal of commercial advertisements aimed at the American public during the boom years that followed World War II.

Stock designs for match covers
advertising political candidates

Match Corporation of America.
Advertising Book Matches: Catalog and Price List.
Chicago: Match Corporation of America, copyright 1958.
Call number qNC1890 .U6M38 1958 CHMRB
Cooper Hewitt, National Design Museum Library

Diane Shaw, Special Collections Cataloger
Smithsonian Libraries

Celebrating the New Year with Babies' Books

Dorothy Warren as a baby in the arms of her nurse

Traditionally the start of a new year is symbolized by a cute baby in diapers, top hat and a sash. So, this seems to be an opportune time for a blog post about babies' books: the commercially produced scrapbooks in which happy parents can record the details of their child's birth and early months of development. These often artfully illustrated scrapbooks record information like babies' weight and length at birth, the dates of milestone events such as their first tooth, and often include mementos like locks of  hair, baby's first shoes, and of course lots of photographs.

The Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum Library in New York City recently added to its collection a couple of babies' books with a special connection to the Museum. The baby featured in both books was Miss Dorothy Warren, a fifth generation New Yorker born on 29 September 1905 to Mr. and Mrs. Charles Clarke Warren of South Lexington Avenue. The Warrens lived in the vicinity of Andrew Carnegie's East Side mansion (built in 1903) which would later became the building housing the Cooper-Hewitt Museum, and Dorothy attended Spence School, located next door to the mansion. Little Dorothy's baby books include some darling photographs and details about the neighborhood, as well as sentimental items like valentines, greeting cards, and a pair of her dainty silk gloves.

Illustration by Maud Humphrey for Baby's Record

Miss Dorothy Warren grew up to become an artist, photographer and author who served in the Women's Army Auxiliary Corps during World War II, and worked for several philanthropic organizations in New York City. She lived to the grand old age of 103, passing away on 21 January 2008. In particular, her New York Times death notice states, "She was active ... in the preservation of the Decorative Arts Collections which form the Cooper-Hewitt Museum, The Smithsonian Institution's National Museum of Design."

One of these scrapbooks, Baby's Record, published in New York by Frederick A. Stokes Co. and copyrighted 1898, is illustrated by Maud Humphrey (1868-1940), a highly successful commercial artist whose portraits of adorable babies and little children were sometimes modeled on her son, later known as the movie actor Humphrey Bogart.

Although the Smithsonian Libraries does not routinely collect babies' books (Miss Warren's connection with the Cooper-Hewitt making this a special case), the University of California at Los Angeles Biomedical Library’s History and Special Collections has more than 600 specimens and is still actively collecting them, since these books contain information with lots of potential interest for medical and social historians.

Humphrey, Maud. Baby's Record, with twelve illustrations in colour and thirty illustrations in black & white. New York : Frederick A. Stokes Co., publishers, c1898. With handwritten annotations, mounted photographs, and ephemera for Miss Dorothy Warren. Call number: HQ779 .H86 1898 CHMRB

Taylor, Ida Scott. Baby's Book, by Ida Scott Taylor and selections from Tennyson, George MacDonald, etc., illustrated by Frances Brundage. London : Raphael Tuck & Sons, [1902?]. With handwritten annotations and mounted photographs for Miss Dorothy Warren. Call number: HQ779 .T39 1902 CHMRB

Diane Shaw, Special Collections Cataloger
Smithsonian Libraries