Pam’s Pictorama Post: This one is sneaking in just under the line after Valentine’s Day. It is what I gave Kim for Valentine’s Day this year.
Some years here it is just a heartfelt card, but this year I was digging around on eBay and buying a few vintage cards which you have seen in prior posts (here and here) and this was one little prize I found. It’s a simple design, a bright red heart with this wonderful little cat attached, with silly white hearts drawn around the outer edge.
Of course the little metal cat attached to the top Stanley (the recipient of this card) had the good sense not to take it off. The poem reads:
To My Valentine If you love me you’ll love my CAT And see that it’s befriended; So if I hear you saying “Scat” I’ll know my chance is ended.
Back of the Valentine.
The back reads, To Stanley S. From Madelaine and Dorothy Haskel (?) And we see this bit of twisted wire that sticks out the back, securing the cat charm to the front. I sort of love that two sisters sent this and I like the last name initial too – was there another Stanley in the class perhaps? Which, if either, sister did Stanley like best? Was the two sister approach to hide the real affection of one? One wonders.
Front of the keychain.
Then, I was cruising around Instagram and one of my favorite folks in Texas (@curiositiesantique or www.getcuriosities.com) put this little gem up and I grabbed it. Kim is an inveterate collector of (lucky) heads up pennies on the sidewalk and so this with a penny embedded within seemed just right for him. It is a lucky keyring which promises, Keep me and never go broke around the outer edge and, in case that wasn’t direct enough, I bring good luck at the bottom.
And the back!
The penny has a date of 1972 so we will date it to then. On the back we discover its real missive, Nick V. Caputo County Clerk Essex Vote Democrat. Turns out he was the Essex County (NJ) Clerk from 1961 to 1991. He was known as the man with the golden arm which had something to do with always drawing the Democrats for the first position on the ballot, the odds of which were 1 in 50 billion! Huh. (For those of you who are curious about this, and perhaps understand it better, you can read more in an article from the Jersey Globehere.)
Someone liked it enough to keep it all this time and it made its way down to Texas. It is back here in the tri-state area though, bringing my sweetheart luck and prosperity.
Pam’s Pictorama Post: There are a handful of traditions here at Deitch Studio and Pam’s Pictorama that we hold dear and none is so anticipated and celebrated than the annual Valentine Kim makes for me. A tradition that reaches back to our first year together (now a few decades back), today’s is an entry in a long line of wonderful drawings, all which have depicted me and illustrated my interests over the decades and placing me at the heart of my own Catland. (This includes frequent allusions to me as the jolly and of course benign ruler of the land, Queen of Catland. A few examples can be found here, here and here and other pictures below.)
A February 2020 edition. This too could be Margate! Pams-Pictorama.com collection.
This year is very special however. The idea grew out of a recent post some of you may remember devoted to review the splendid new biography of Louis Wain, Catland, which can be read here. Kim has brought to life my suggestion that there was a moment when Louis Wain and T.S. Eliot were living on different sides of the same beachside community, Margate, where I have noted, many people had photo postcards made posing with a splendid giant Felix the cat doll. (Some of those posts can be found here and here.)
Pams-Pictorama.com collection.
Kim has brought all these elements together. Rather than running into each other and meeting TS and Louis are both so wrapped up in their own views of the world they never see each other – although Felix loitering outside the photo studio arguably sees them both. They are both witnessing a (real) catburgler in action – for Eliot it inspires the poem Macvity the Mystery Cat (who appears to be reading about his exploits at the bottom) while Wain wanders off into a world of anthropomorphic kits which, around the perimeter of the picture range from jaunty to disintegrating, and forming Cubist cat delights.
A Margate Felix. Pams-Pictorama.com collection.
Louis is painting the very scene, or a variation on it, while some of his humanoid cats enjoy exploits swimming and strolling just out of the frame. Big white kitties standing on their hindlegs point at the scene with even more imaginative cats portraits above them. T.S. Eliot recovering from a nervous breakdown, meeting Louis Wain drifting off into his own world of ever morphing felines.
In some ways, this is the perfect melding of worlds, Wain’s, Eliot’s, mine and Kim’s. Bravo yet again my beloved Mr. Deitch!
T.S. Eliot 1888 - 1965
Macavity: The Mystery Cat (1939) Macavity’s a Mystery Cat: he’s called the Hidden Paw — For he’s the master criminal who can defy the Law. He’s the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad’s despair: For when they reach the scene of crime — Macavity’s not there!
Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity, He’s broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity. His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare, And when you reach the scene of crime - Macavity’s not there! You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air - But I tell you once and once again, Macavity’s not there!
Macavity’s a ginger cat, he’s very tall and thin; You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in. His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly domed; His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed. He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake; And when you think he’s half asleep, he’s always wide awake.
Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity, For he’s a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity. You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square - But when a crime’s discovered, then Macavity’s not there!
He’s outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.) And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard’s. And when the larder’s looted, or the jewel-case is rifled, Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke’s been stifled, Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair - Ay, there’s the wonder of the thing! Macavity’s not there!
And when the Foreign Office find a Treaty’s gone astray, Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way, There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair - But it’s useless to investigate - Macavity’s not there! And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say: ‘It must have been Macavity!’ - but he’s a mile away. You’ll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumbs, Or engaged in doing complicated long division sums.
Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity, There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity. He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare: At whatever time the deed took place - MACAVITY WASN’T THERE! And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known (I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone) Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime!
Pam’s Pictorama Post: I think the impression people may get is that I like my birthday, although the reality is actually that I am a bit ambivalent about it and have taken control of it to the extent I can. As my mother would say however, it is far better than the alternative. Years and years ago in my 20’s, I decided that I would try to take the situation in hand and create birthday traditions for myself and therefore be less disappointed in the enterprise. This has largely worked, some years more successful than others.
Those who have been down this road with me before know that my birthday occurs alongside Valentine’s Day (the great Kim Deitch Valentine’s Day reveal is here tomorrow – mark your calendars!) which posed challenges for the admirers and boyfriends of the young Pam Butler.
I was born in a snowstorm if not downright blizzard. Mom and Dad sussed out the situation pretty quickly and got her to the hospital to have me in the late afternoon (He was annoyed I interrupted his office hours, Mom used to say) amidst growing piles of snow. It frequently snows, sometimes a lot, on my birthday. I remember at least two whopping snowstorms in my early adulthood, stop everything kind of days, here in the city. And along with the snow, a myriad of plans cast aside at the last minute for alternative plans. I learned to lean local for my birthday.
Birthday traditions include trying to have a meal with my various other Aquarian friends. Currently this has whittled down to just a couple of favorites with folks moving or among the elder generation, passing. Still, they are always wonderful and I saw one friend earlier this week for dinner although have yet to set the date for the other – we’ve been known to wander into March too, spreading it out. Bygone traditions included spending the day with my late sister, Loren, and mom sending flowers or acquiring lavish cakes.
Kim and I will spend a day next weekend sort of gloriously wandering somewhere in the city next weekend. (I head to NJ for a clutch of doctor’s appointments there – and to visit the NJ cats who will help greet the new birth year on Tuesday.) Potentially we’ll be bundled up if the weather predictions hold. Snow is scheduled to start tonight and, after a brief melt possibly tomorrow, continue on through the beginning of the week.
This year, as declared in a post last week, I went on a bit of a vintage Valentine’s Day binge and while looking I came across today’s card which seemed perfect for me to align and honor my black cat, Valentine’s Day and birthday interests.
It is British and therefore the black cat is a lucky symbol – their horseshoe is also facing down whereas I think we usually portray it up (to hold the luck!) on this side of the pond. In addition to this smiling cat there is a four leaf clover, should we have any doubts. (There will be more about lucky objects coming next week so stay tuned.)
Back of card.
It declares: Upon your happy Birthday morn, I wish you Joy and Pleasure. And everything you’d like to have Heaped up in brimming measure! It has a spot for From at the bottom (what about To?) and someone has penciled in, as best I can tell, E. M. Pinder.
Thank you Eden Kennedy!
It has this interesting sort of deckle edge to the card and on the back it reads, Mrs. c/o Mrs. Plumb, 25 Hassett Road, Homerton and on the other side, For Minnie. The stamp is a halfpenny one and it was sent on March 7,1912, just short of 113 years ago. This makes its somewhat discolored state a bit more forgivable.
Beau, the black cat beauty to whom I refer.
In closing I also offer a birthday card from a friend that arrived in the mail last night. It looks remarkably like Beauregard, one of the Jersey Five. Makes an excellent case for a celebratory cat tierra, not to mention cape.
Pam’s Pictorama Post: I used to say that I would like to retire to a cat farm in Connecticut. Now, far from retired, those of you who follow my story know that it does appear that I roughly run one in New Jersey in addition of course to the feline folks here in New York. Additionally, my work life is now very animal centric and I can say I find myself in a place where I can have some very catty days indeed. Today I am dedicating a bit of space to my feline friends understanding it may not be the cat’s meow for all readers.
Peaches sees a bird out the window. She is ever watchful of the outside perimeter.
Just last Friday at work I found myself having a delightful hour crawling around on the floor of our member’s lounge with two new visitors, such good kitties they were out of their carriers and investigating the premises. Their mom adopts special needs cats only and is able to devote time and resources to their care. They are remarkably well adjusted cats and sat on my lap for pets and purrs.
Stormy is most likely to be seen at meals.Milty, grand old man, napping.
In general, unlike dogs (some actually seem to enjoy a visit to our premises – others less so) cats are rarely up for an actual visit when they are at the vet. This is certainly true of mine. If left with me in an exam room Blackie will immediately start to examine all possible exits for a getaway, first checking the perimeter of the room and gesturing to the doors – come on mom, we can make a break for it. I had another cat, Otto, an excellent jumper, who would look upward and the next thing I knew she went from my shoulder to atop high cabinets and had to be fetched by office staff. It is more than fair to say I meet many more cats these days, albeit those under the duress of being at the vet.
Beauregard who has recently discovered the pleasures of Zoom and sitting on my desk in NJ.
My work integrates daily thinking about cat projects as well – fund a cat recovery area in surgery or ICU anyone? Pay for some research? The largest number of patients are dogs, and frankly we care for many exotics (it seems to me I have seen a lot of guinea pigs coming and going lately and even heard tell of a goldfish). One day in the hall one of our staff rushed past me with a teeny, tiny turtle in a plastic tub. However, cats are far from uncommon.
Cats (dogs – and other animals) which need to be rehomed are sometime detailed and emailed to staff as it is, obviously, a huge network of animal people. This in addition to a daily dose of cat tales and woes on posts via the internet where adoption and loss seem to vie for attention. Lovely adult and senior cats who have lost their home due to circumstances changing – illness, death or indifference.
Sunny front door action at the NJ house. A prime morning spot.
As much as the New Jersey cats are tended and adored in my absence I worry about them. Although it has worked out better than I thought it would and it was definitely how my mom wanted it. I continue to consider it a work in progress.
Here in New York, Blackie continues to confound us with a newfound desire to drink water from the sink. I have had other cats develop this desire, but Blackie is single minded in his demands. Yes, he has had all sorts of tests run about it and even taking his diabetes into account it is unclear where the increased water intake has come from. In part, one cannot separate out the entertainment factor of making your human perform simple tricks such as turning the faucet on for you when you caterwaul. Still, there is definitely a corresponding urge and he also drinks considerable water from his shared bowl with Cookie.
Gus on the bed in NJ. He is one cat I think misses getting singular attention.
Blackie’s sister Cookie has become a more affectionate cat as she gets older. She is demanding in her own way (in fact we sometimes call her Demanda) but usually for pets, preferring morning and evening specially for those. Cookie is unusual in that she is the only cat I have ever known who truly likes having her tummy rubbed – like a dog. She will roll and stretch and request our attention for this. She and Blackie will share the bed during the day, but once I get into it at night she eschews it. Blackie has the job of waking us in the morning and only if we refuse to stir by about 6:15 will Cookie take matters in hand and race across the bed a few times to see if she can eject us manually.
Tummy rubbing time.
So this morning I find myself wishing I could give them all a home, but a bit overwhelmed by my own inherited menagerie at times. Wouldn’t trade my daily dose of cats however, although I am learning to appreciate dogs too – more to come?
Pam’s Pictorama Post: Let the Valentine’s Day and Butler Birthday season commence early here this year. We have a lot to show and share for ourselves this February.
Valentine’s and photography seem to be a natural combination when I look at vintage valentine’s. Although I generally am perusing the cats (I have posted a few past puss ones here and here), but occasionally like today, these interests align. I am a tad puzzled about photography as a sub-category of vintage valentine’s.
Of course movement in a Valentine is also desirable – I am not someone who needs elaborate movement. I might enjoy seeing those, but my space constraints make storing or displaying them untenable.
Liked this one, but decided it was a bit too fragile and large to live here at Deitch Studio.
I am perhaps not the best steward of vintage Valentines truth be told as they are a bit fragile. This one is actually zipping off to someone shortly after the writing of this – surprise! (See if you know who you are.)
Our cameraman kitty has what I think of as a press camera which…seems to produce playing cards in the suit of hearts! Clever cat! He has a nice big blue bow (that and because he is an orange tabby I have decided its a boy) and sits on a more or less matching cushion. The bow is the mechanism for the card to be “pulled out” of behind the camera.
This in the “down” position before the card is revealed!
If you want to get technical there’s maybe something a bit off about the paw holding the camera in front, a bit small. On the cushion it is inscribed, If you, my Valentine will be – you’ll hear a great big Purr from me. On the back in an adult hand it says, To Betty Jo from Jacqueline. It is also marked 10 cents in two places. There is no date, although at the bottom right corner there is a very tiny 1924 copyright date.
Mechanism, old prices and dedication on the back.
Personally, I grew up in the era of the big plastic covered box of small cards which I think may still be produced in some fashion – they were so ubiquitous that if nothing else there is probably old dead stock around. As a very small child we were set to making them out to everyone in the class which seems nicely egalitarian, although I have no particular memory about whether this was an effective solution. It took some effort, writing the card and the envelope, tucking it in. They were then put into a large bag and then distributed.
Etsy appears to reproduce reasonable facsimiles of the packages I might have had as a kid.
Over time the powers that control small children got less controlling and Valentine’s accumulated from you immediate circle of friends, occasionally widen by an ambitious classmate or, as we got older, a brave boy who took it into his head to send one. I’m not sure we ever got ourselves beyond those tiny cards – the luxury and investment of singular cards like this were not in our orbit.
In addition, there were those boxes of candied hearts with sayings. While accumulating them seemed to be the thing to do, I wasn’t an especially big fan of consuming them being more of a chocolate treat over the pure sugar approach. I believe in addition to the rather classic straightforward messages, Spangler, the current maker in a long line of producers, has kept up and now have messages about things like text me and BFF.
Available from Walmart to Amazon and beyond.
There are classic Valentine’s consumables which I embraced and still embrace. My father was always good for a classic heart shaped box of candy wrapped in lurid red cellophane. I would say when we were young it was Russell Stover, but got a bit more high end as we got older. He would also sometimes bring home something for us and I remember (and used for many years) a silver heart keychain from Tiffany. (I have the remains of it in a jewelry box.) I will likely buy one of these boxes for the office where our new digs has helped create a better sense of community around shared food treats.
Has changed very little over the years. I especially like the strawberry creams…
More Valentine’s treat posts to come – culminating of course with Kim’s picture for me which is a real wonder this year! Stay tuned as we say…
Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: I purchased these photos on Instagram quite a long time ago. One night after dinner they showed up by a seller I follow but rarely buy from – a guy who had a store here in Manhattan on the Lower Eastside and then packed up and relocated, I think, to Florida. (A couple of posts of the joys of his store can be found here and here.)
These sat unopened for a long time and then they went to New Jersey. I photographed them for this purpose while I was there. They are not yet hanging and I am not sure of a spot for them, clearly the need to remain together.
I was shocked to discover that the frames are plastic and incredibly light. I had assumed they were painted wood, all the better for hanging but potentially a bit fragile.
I peg this one for the older kid. Pams-Pictorama.com collection.
Sometimes I wonder how or why a particular photo makes it through time and being sold while others clearly whittle away. It is easy to see why these hung together somewhere and the appeal of these kids and these clown costumes is self-evident.
These were either commercially purchased costumes or made by a fine seamstress. The one with the stars is showier and catches your eye better, but really they are equal in their greatness. The hats are especially nice and seem to be made as part of the costume, the tie on ruffs around the neck. The button closures seem to be some sort of passementerie or Soutache. The sleeves on the one hang a bit long.
Giving you a better look at this one too – Pams-Pictorama.com collection.
Each photo is taken in the same spot in front of this older garden apartment which could have been anywhere – I haven’t a clue where these came from originally. The walkway does a nice job of zipping up the composition and taking our eye right to the back. Each figure is placed visually between the lanterns at the front entrance.
I have gone back and forth on this, but my current thinking is that both are girls. The one in the star decorated costume definitely is, and I would say she is the younger. She is sort of bubbling over with enthusiasm. The other is a bit more studied, arms folded, but a big grin nonetheless. Both are very charming.
While I assume these are for Halloween, but it could have been another costume or fancy dress opportunity. Lucky kids – if the costumes were any indication a good time was had by all!
Pam’s Pictorama Post: Kim had the excellent suggestion this morning that I might consider each of the cats individually for a post, starting with some of the New Jersey guys (and gals). Peaches was featured in a post (which can be read here) not that long ago so this would be the second of the lucky kits seven to be in the spotlight. (My father’s wonderful cat Red who died not that long after him was featured in a post here.)
Beau, Gus and Milty waiting for breakfast one morning.
Milty, as he is generally known, is the most senior, if somewhat titular, head of the New Jersey manor. He is, by our best guestimate, about 21 years old. I’m afraid I don’t have any photos of a young Milty. As you can see, he’s an almost tabby, white with copious tabby spots, a sort of every cat.
Milty achieving pets on the arm of the chair.
He came to my mom as a tiny kitten rescued in Newark with a terrible long cut down his back. Because of that, I guess, he came to mom with the moniker of Knifey which she thought was an awful name and hardly described this genial little ball of fluff. He was found and rescued him on Milton Street (Newark Harrison Plaza to be precise it would appear) in Newark and Mom went with Milton as his name, Milty most of the time. Meanwhile, his back injury was so severe that he had to be isolated away from her other cats for a few months while it healed.
My parents were still in the (very large) house I grew up in and Milty had a room upstairs where he spent his first few months. That was a rough and tumble house of more or less five cats at the time, but eventually Milty found, and probably occasionally fought, his way into the milieu.
It was, I believe, not long after my sister Loren died that Milty came to Shrewsbury Drive. It also became a tumultuous time with my folks packing up that house ultimately and leap frogging to a rental before moving into the house I have now. So while a new kitty is always a thing of joy I think things like hurricane Sandy followed by my parents packing up and moving overshadowed his arrival somewhat. He slipped quietly and seamlessly into the life of the Butler household.
Winsome putting her hat on him on a whim last year.
Milty was always a pretty easy going guy. Slowly he moved up the ranks of mom’s cats over time and there was a moment where it was just him and two others before mom went on a cat acquisition streak not much more than two years before she died, bringing their number to five.
Of all of the cats, Milty is the friendliest and in fact actually demands to be petted by all comers to the house – sitting by you and reaching out with a tapping paw gently. He has a good memory for the regular visitors who pay attention to him and runs right to them. He does not discriminate by age – he is perfectly willing to let Anaya, Winsome’s granddaughter age 3, have her first, tentative cat pats with him. His fur is amazingly soft and he has gotten fluffier, not less so, with age.
Milty in the livingroom.
He is a bit of a grump and tyrant these days when it comes to food. If given his way a stream of cans would be opened for him ongoing throughout the day. He has the annoying (for the other cats) habit of eating the first wet bits out of every dish as they are put out – taking the best moist bits off the top. He drinks copious (truly vast) amounts of water daily and is said (by mom) to have tumors in his stomach. In the mornings that I am there he meows loudly and urgently for his breakfast until it is served, he and Beau eat first there.
Milty is demanding for attention as well and sits on the arm of your chair and gently grabs your arm, just a few gentle claw paws, for pets. Unfortunately, he is not a well behaved lap cat and the claws are in play for starfish paws and he tends to get moved along. He is the top ranked puker in the house and has other occasional accidents, not surprising I guess given his age and other factors.
Peaches smiling and giving Milty a pat.
He enjoys a surprisingly good relationship with essentially all of the other cats. (He has no use for the New York cats when they visit but that seems fair. He mixed it up with Blackie on our last visit, marching into the bedroom one morning to see where breakfast was. He also swatted a friend’s dog who wandered into the house with him one evening.) I tend to find an odd combination of cats curled up with Milty. The most surprising is Peaches, our most feral and generally resistant feline. I frequently find her curled up with him while giving me a somewhat defensive look. Gus also likes to sit with (or sometimes on) Milts and Milty never appears bothered. He is the Switzerland of cats.
Gus horning in Milty’s perch.
High jumping was never his thing – the awful long cut on his back perhaps – and he generally stays near to the ground now and rarely gets up higher than a low chair. Aside from that he is surprisingly spry and greets all visitors like the retired mayor of a small town who sits out in a sunny rocking chair on the front porch of the general store or post office. He expects a certain amount of recognition and fealty.
In some ways I feel bad for Milty as he never quite got to be a singular favorite with a devoted individual tending him. He has been loved but a bit generally by many. We’ve had a few scares with his health and know that at 21 for a cat his time is likely melting away. However, he seems utterly content as the figurative king kitty in the house of Butler.
Pam’s Pictorama Post: January is a tough month for me. Personal ghosts swirl around me a bit this time of the year, with a strong dash of snow, sleet and extreme cold thrown into the misery mix. This year is no exception, but today I will focus on another anniversary and update those readers who are interested on my new job which also hit the one year mark last week.
I am somewhat fascinated by our proximity to the underbelly of the 59th Street Bridge and, as above, the apparatus for the cable car to Roosevelt Island.
I have been known to say that the thing about accepting a challenge is there’s always the very real chance you will fail – that is if it is a true challenge. Obviously we gauge our chance for success when we accept and enter into challenges, but really, a true challenge means that the specter of failure should remain front of mind.
I wrote at the one year point in my job at Jazz at Lincoln Center after leaving the Metropolitan Museum after almost 30 years. (Those separate posts can be found here and here.) I definitely had a tiger by the tail at that point and with that job. It was more than another year before I started to feel like I had it on the run and it took a pandemic to make me feel as though I really gained some ground. (One of the posts I wrote about the challenges of managing my team remotely during Covid can be found here.)
Spectacularrooftop view from the old office, but we were rarely up there.
The learning curve at Jazz was tremendous and the first year was just about immersing myself in the life of the orchestra, traveling with them and understanding them as well as establishing routines and process.
While the new gig at a large non-profit veterinary hospital is remarkably less dysfunctional, the challenge of breaking the code of the organization and fundraising for it may be an even higher bar. My biggest challenge is the difficulty of immersing myself in the life of the hospital. My office is not physically in the hospital and therefore I am only present when needed. Finding your way into a complex organization is hard enough but to do it from a distance is of course even harder.
Photo of the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra on a lunch break while traveling through the south on tour in ’17.This was part of how I got to know them and the organization.
When I talk about success and failure, of course first and foremost is actually raising money and creating a dependable functioning machine for doing so. More science than art, a good fundraising operation should understand how and from where it gets money so that it is achievable each year, and that forms a foundation on which growth of contributed income can be based.
It is this latter piece I have not yet achieved. As I hit the one year mark I feel as though I barely know the organization and that I have yet to build even the shell of a machine, instead I have taken the year to study the existing process and procedures. I am sorry not to be further along, but remind myself that I signed up for a marathon and not a sprint and how can you improve on things if you do not understand precisely how they work.
The Ritz Diner is one of the few eating establishments near work I occasionally frequent for breakfast or lunch.
And while I have not cracked the code I did meet more of the medical staff over the holidays and I need to take advantage of offers to spend time in some of the services – a day in Surgery, in the ER and maybe an overnight in the hospital. There were offers of meetings and coffee and part of my New Year’s resolutions for the job has to be a regular schedule of these.
Exam room pic from Blackie’s first stint at the hospital.
Still and most importantly, taking it out of the abstract, some of you know that Blackie decided to stop eating in the days leading up to Thanksgiving. He did a long stint at the hospital about two years ago and recently we started bringing him there to care for his diabetes. (Posts about both of these Blackie events can be found here and here.) Despite setbacks in does still feel like I am in the right place at the right time for me.
For some things there are no real solutions aside from time and hard work and so here we go.
Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: This photo came to me via the antiques mall in New Jersey, purchased shortly before Christmas this year, among my minor holiday decoration purchases. It is a bit faded and the mat it is attached to is a bit stained and tatty. It caught my eye however and overall it is sort of wonderful.
I brought the photo back to New York where I have been looking at it under a loupe and I have managed to read the very faded and overexposed writing on the side of the truck. I have deduced that this truck was decorated for a company picnic and outing. After cleaning I can just about read the writing on the side of the truck despite it being very over-exposed and faded, Annual Outing and Picnic for Employees Pulaski Trucking Corporation. Sadly, if there was a date I can no longer decode it. (These days I can find a Pulaski Heavy Hauling company in New York – hard to know if this is this company is the ancestor or not.)
This fits neatly into my collection of yard long photos of outings and employee picnics which decorate the walls of the house in New Jersey. (Posts about those can be found here and here.) I will most likely bring it back there to live, although if I could find a spot for it here in New York I would enjoy that too. There is something endlessly appealing about people in their best bib and tucker posing on a special outing. It is in some ways the essence and premise of much of my collection.
These yard long photos are hard to film (but worth it) so you’ll have to go to the post above to really see it!
It is a deeply male enterprise and picnic or not, these fellows mostly dressed for the occasion. (I’ll assume the wives and girlfriends and children are nearby but elsewhere.) Understanding that it is a picnic it is surprising that so many are in suits or wearing ties. Some wear hats and others took their off for the photo. There are two men in dark suits on the end, one holds a newspaper in his hands while the other has a black mourning band on his arm and smokes a cigarette.
The fellow on the very end is the jauntiest, leaning on one arm, straw hat and all attitude. Next to him, almost ghost-like due to movement during the exposure, being over-exposed and fading, is a small child in shorts, lumpy high socks (bad idea!) bunching down his legs. He is the only kid to sneak into this otherwise all adult photo.
The Tydol sign, hanging off the side of the garage, indicates that this photo was probably taken in front of the garage. There’s no way to know where this was taken. The three and four story buildings in the background make the setting at least a bit urban, but could easily be small town urban. Although found in NJ there is of course no guarantee that this was taken there and as these were truckers, we assume the fellows in the photo roamed a bit afield.
The photo is evidently glued into a pressed paper decorative mat. It was super grimy and it appears to have become one with the pressed paper mat. The back is cardboard and some torn brown paper, but with a wire that seems serviceable and ready to hang so I will be looking for exactly the right spot to install it.
Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: I found this photo in New Jersey while looking for something else over the holidays. I found a cache of photos there of my father and his cousins when they were very young and spending summers in a tiny, bucolic enclave called Cottekill, in Ulster County, New York where the family had a house. Some of those photos showed my grandfather quite young with my dad as a tiny tot and many of the three children at play.
I don’t know why, but somehow I never saw this particular pile of photos. And I am sorry not to have found them to puzzle over with mom while she was still alive. Photos from Dad’s family somehow didn’t make it into the family rotation. Actually my parents mostly kept pictures of their life together in the house and ones from their past dribbled in over time, but were not always examined it seems. Although a cousin brought mom a pile from her side of the family which we were able to examine during the last years of her life.
Dad’s memory, never good, was sort of a Swiss cheese hit or miss before he died and I don’t know how much help he would have been in identifying anything anyway. As interesting as I find those photos of him as a babe or small child, this is a rare shot of my father as a young man and I can’t think of another from this time in his life so I have brought it back to New York with me.
Frankly, it is not a great photo, bad exposure and poorly printed, messy edges with some bit of another photo bleeding into the left side. The composition is not great – the photographer could have fitted dad into the frame better. Presumably it was taken by one of his friends, perhaps also learning the craft of still photography at the time. Dad appears to be noodling around with a piece of film editing equipment. (On subsequent study – is that a press camera seen from the side?) For me my interest is mostly that I don’t have other photos of him from precisely this time. It is undated and there is nothing written on the back – may I just say, neither side of my family ever made notes on their photos.
A photo of mom from about a decade later.
My father did his undergraduate degree at NYU in history and, after a stint in the army during the war in Korea where he was stationed in the Arctic and learned to film maneuvers. He later used the GI bill to get his masters degree in film at Boston University. I wonder if this shows him, plying his new trade, in an apartment somewhere in Boston, although it doesn’t really have the look of a student apartment – drapes on the window and paintings on the wall.
The objects on the table are too indistinct to really see. I believe the paper in front of him is likely the booklet of instructions for the device he is using – that may be a roll of film next to it. He is dressed in a rather natty button down shirt and vest and a watch with a leather band which predates the metal Rolex one I inherited (and wear) and remember him best as wearing.
Dad in an undated photo on a motorcycle he rode across country.
Dad always dressed well and he liked clothes and shopping – my mom didn’t so I assume I got my interest in those things from him. (I have written about his mom, Gertrude, before who collected jewelry and was always well dressed. A post devoted to her and my inherited interests can be found here.) The only real surprise is that he never wore a striped shirt in my memory. His closet was a perpetual sea of light blue and white versions of this shirt (pink might occasionally find its way in) which I might inherit to mess around in once the collars and cuffs frayed. It is a bit beyond my imagination to think of him wearing stripes, but evidently they are something he grew out of.
I have a photo I have written about before of dad a few years later, astride a decaying motorcycle he rode across the country. (That popular early post can be found here.) I like this one to help fill in the dots along the timeline of his life and I plan to put it in a frame and bring it to my office. There it will reside next to a much beloved picture of my mom I rescued recently where a young Betty Butler is holding Snoopy, our first cat as a family. Mom and Dad would meet about five or more years after spot on the timeline I assign to this picture.
Unlike some family photos I have unearthed, this one doesn’t really have stand alone quality as a picture to recommend it so thank you for indulging me a bit if you read this to the end.
Pam's Pictorama 