Posting About Postcards!

Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today I am taking a moment to revel in my postcard purchases, but also to celebrate the postcard show itself. To anyone who has been to the current incarnation of this sale this might seem a bit extreme as it is in a small church in the West Village and made up of about nine dealers.

The first reference to this show in my life dates back to college when one of my professors, collage artist Maureen McCabe (her site here), mentioned in passing that she loved to go to a postcard show in Manhattan. She would pick up vintage cards which she would use in her collage boxes. (She mentioned getting vintage paper dolls there which I have never seen!) Frankly, in my naivete I had never heard of or considered such a thing. Antique stores and flea markets were a part of my childhood but shows of such things for sale had never really occurred to me. And postcards no less. It set my brain mulling.

*The art of Maureen McCabe. “Fate and Magic”, 2013, copyright of the artist. That could be a vintage paperdoll right there…*

Fast forward a number of decades and somehow or other it came to my attention that there was a vintage postcard show (the Metropolitan postcard show) at a (then) old and tatty hotel on the far west end of 57th Street. In my memory at the time it was a Howard Johnson, it appears to be called the Watson Hotel now. (Another sliver of memory is that in my 20’s my then boyfriend, Kevin, and I would get day passes just for swimming pool access in hotels in Manhattan in the hottest of summer. This was one of those somewhat cheesy hotels.)

Who would have thought a room with nothing but postcards for sale would be of so much interest? In those years there was probably twice as many dealers and maybe even some ephemera that was beyond postcards. (How big was it when Maureen went?) If memory serves there were a few people of some note signing or roaming the space. I bought fewer cards and spent most of my time and money at a high flying dealer table groaning with Louis Wain cards.

Sadly, with Covid like some many things it shutdown and although I was on their mailing list it seemed to be a number of years before I caught up with them again. Now I find them in the West Village and reduced in size.

Oddly, for me it is perhaps a bit more manageable and I seem to come away with increasingly large scores and yesterday proves the point. It was a miserably rainy day which may have depressed attendance although business seemed reasonably brisk to me. Kim was with me and settled into a pile of photos of early actors and actresses and even made a few purchases and you will probably see those over time too.

*View while digging through a box labeled “Cat”.*

Today’s card was purchased by me early in the show as I made my way through each dealer; it is Mainzer at his best. I have written about Mainzer before (which can be read here and here) who is sort of the later heir to the Louis Wain throne. Mainzer, as a card producer, picks up that ball in 1938 and runs with it, arguably until at least 2005 when taking the reprints of the cards into consideration. Prior to 1955 the production address was 118 East 28th Street here in New York. (On a whim I did a Google Search on the address and it is worth a look, the Kaime Arcade building with a very interesting facade.) After 1955 it is just noted as Long Island City and that is what is printed on this card. Eugen Hartung was the artist.

While mama cat, dressed for a day of shopping with stockinged legs, heels, hat, gloves and fur trimmed coat, chooses between two postcards, her offspring are tearing the place apart – including I might add, her poodle on a leash! In case you are wondering, yes, each of the postcards has a tiny cat drawing on it. (The other prints on the walls appear to be flowers however.) Allow me to note some oddities about the store. It seems to stock not only postcards, prints and fancy wrap boxes, but oddly globes adorn the shelf too. Cut off at the top seem to be some written labels I cannot quite make out and appear to be written in Hartung’s native Swiss German.

*Another view of inside the church where the Metropolitan Postcard show now resides several times a year.*

The well appointed shopkeepers are both in a uniform dress with matching necklaces. While the one with glasses focuses on Mrs. Cat, the other tries to contend with the kits. She has come running with a pen in hand, clearly interrupted in her clerical duties. The kittens, two boys and a girl, are well turned out but unlike mom and the salespeople do not wear shoes – bare paws all the better to climb with. Each magically has their tail come out from their clothing – including the little girls whose pantaloons we see. Mom’s tail, and that of the saleslady, appear from under their overclothes. (I’m always curious about how tails are worked into anthropomorphic cats.)

Several kinds of cat are represented for variety – Mrs. Cat is a tabby, the boys a tabby and a tuxie, little girls is a marmalade. The saleswomen are marmalade and lastly an odd mix like maybe she has some Siamese in her. One final curi-oddity is that the pooch, having opened the cabinet below, has released two large mice. No one, even the dog, is paying any attention to their escape. A pleasant mayhem is enjoyed by all.

*Back of card – how did it find its way back to the US I wonder.*

Someone has penned card b at the bottom right. An addition mystery about this card is the back which shows that this was evidently mailed to Japan from an indeterminate place in 1976 and has, obviously, made its way back to the United States to ultimately be sold to me. It says in a neat childish scrawl, Dear Jacob, the school is very good and close. all the children are kind to me. I am learning and getting better. I will see you in camp. Nathan. It was sent to: Jacob G. Cohen, 1-32-28 Ebisu-nishi, Shibuya-Ku, Tokyo, 150 Japan. (And for your information, a postcard to Japan in 1976 cost twenty-one cents.)

Lastly (because I have clearly droned on a bit) may I just say that curiously this store reminds me very much of one I used to go to in New Jersey, near the house we now have. I cannot remember the name but was a true old fashioned stationary store and carried not only cards and assorted writing materials, but the more esoteric things a stationary store carried before the internet, such as form contracts like leases, which is what my mother used to go there for. It was long and narrow with windows all along one side. There were similar blond cabinets and perhaps more of a dusty business-like feel but something about this card nags at my brain with that memory. It is sadly now a Dunkin’ Donuts, just a few feet from the post office and grocery store we walk to frequently.

So there you have it – the postcard show and our first edition of the acquisitions.

Everything’s Swell!

Posted by Pam's Pictorama

Pam’s Pictorama Post: It’s impossible for me to see this card without hearing a certain sort of cartoon cat voice from my childhood – vaguely sarcastic, probably based on a motion picture idea of what a citified gangster sounded like. His friend and sidekick would reply, Yeah, right boss!

This is among the last of the cards I bought at the big postcard show over the summer. (Never fear, there’s another show coming in early October.) This card looks like it could have been drawn by one of those cartoon animators as a side gig. It has a pro feeling to it. The cat on the fence with the big orange sun setting – a glowing sunset behind the fence we realize when we really look. We get a peek at a yellow field and a house behind. It is as if the world is very beautiful glowing yellow and civilized just on the other side of the fence from where these three cats gather.

The two males on the fence seem to be tuning up for a night of caterwauling, while the girl cat belongs to someone who has place a bow around her neck. I guess she matriculates through both worlds. There is a garbage can which has overflowed – I guess that can be investigated and raided later if the boys need a snack.

*Blackie and Cookie on the bed recently. They have only just reconciled with each other upon our return to the NYC apartment.*

Not surprisingly it has me in mind of what we called alley cats when I was a kid and which occurs to me right now to be a term you don’t really hear any longer. (Do we no longer have alleys? Or are cats no longer their denizens?) Instead we talk about strays and feral cats – terms people seem to use interchangeably which arguably are not. Domestic cats that have been abandoned are now strays but they are not feral.

I have written about our first stray found when I was a small child, Zipper. (I wrote about him and other tabbies I have known in a post here. Zipper’s interest in our tropical fish can be found here.) He was a classic alley cat, a tabby with a broken tail where the tip was always at an angle. Mom rescued him outside the laundry one day (this was before we had our own washer and dryer – yes, we’re talking quite a long time ago) where some boys were abusing him.

Zipper was super scrappy though and grew into a beautiful cat. I suspect in retrospect that our rather prim but gentle domestic cat Snoopy was probably utterly shocked by him. He kept his streetwise wits about him and became a ringleader of the neighborhood cats of the time. (Our cats were of the indoor/outdoor variety at the time.) Zips would round up his buddies and make raids on an eel box kept for bait up the street. What pussycat parties those appeared to be! Puking for days after and a need to hose down the garage. These two on the card would have happily attended and then gotten into a few fights.

*Mr. Miltie, our old, old timer.* *A long ago rescue from Newark.*

Spending time outside our cats would get into scraps and occasionally come home with a gaping wound which would eventually abscess and require a trip to the vet. Once I remember my mother couldn’t find a cat carrier and stuffed Zipper into a picnic basket which he promptly chewed right through – head sticking out and therefore somewhat stuck, on our the way there.

All of this was brought back to me by a snippet on Instagram this morning about a British woman and her son finding a cat in the backyard and enticing him inside over a period of a couple of years. Reminds me of our Hobo in New Jersey who we never were able to get inside and who disappeared last year. They call him Boysie, another tabby, and it was a bad wound that finally made them urge him inside and to the vet.

*Gus, on the bed. He came to the backdoor in NJ one winter. He can’t decide if he wants to be petted all the time or is afraid to at all.*

Now we have dedicated people doing TNR (trap, neuter and release) of cat colonies which have mercifully cut down their numbers. Strays with docked ears show this has been done and our Stormy bears that evidence. Here in Manhattan strays are much less common than they once were even in my lifetime. Still, Stormy and Gus both came to the backyard at Mom’s and the other three were otherwise rescued, Beau and Miltie from Newark and Peaches from a basement in Long Branch. We know that shelters are full to overflowing and I am told that in the spring a never ending parade of kittens were dropped at our doors at work despite our not even being a shelter.

Recently an older friend lost her sister unexpectedly and the sister had just adopted a stray. I was very tempted to invite her to join the tribe although eight might truly be the tipping of that scale.

Peaches. I actually touched her for the first time recently. She was asleep on a chair and did not appreciate it. Peaches will generally only let me get within a foot or two of her. Still, she seems very happy. Stretches and rolls around. Just a no-touch kinda girl.

I think of our cat companions and how very special they are. Cookie is asleep atop a Chewy box surveying her kingdom as I write and Blackie is wondering if he looks longingly enough I will give him a Churu treat. (I am the soft touch for these and secretly am always trying to put a bit more weight on Blackie. He is a willing participant.) It makes me sad to think of those kitties that could have happy lives in homes but don’t get the chance. Here’s to finding them all their very best homes.

Reine Eymard – Cat Impersonator!

Posted by Pam's Pictorama

Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: Ongoing readers know that I have been on something of an animal impersonator role lately! It was true synchronicity when I saw this hit a favored account on Instagram (@Marsh.and.Meadow) during a casual scroll stroll. I snatched it up – my head was still full of last week’s post where Steven Phillips (@woodenhillstoys) shared his whacky and wonderful poster of a cat imitator. (That post can be found here.) And here was yet another photo of a cat imitator – my first French entry. (Animal imitators abound here at Pictorama and a few other posts are here and here.)

Subsequently Steven showed me where that imitator was named J. Hurst – to date I cannot find any information about him, aside from his stint for Black Cat Cigarettes. I am sorry to report that Reine Eymard appears to be equally lost to the sands of time. My own Pictorama posts are the only items I find!

*A sister perhaps? Royet, Hyacinthe. “Eldorado Aimée Eymard”. Lithographie couleur. entre1880-et-1900. Paris, musée Carnavalet.*

There is an Aimee Eymard who appears to be a contemporaneous performer (chanteuse) and I wonder if it is a sister. There is scant information about her as well however. Just a couple of posters. It’s fun to think about sisters on the same bill in France of 1890 – one in a cat outfit and the other a singer! Perhaps the cat sang too. Me-ow!

Sadly I cannot decode the date that this was mailed from the canceled stamp that is on the front of this card. The back is covered with writing, in French. It is of note that this particular card appears to have sold on eBay recently. Clearly I wasn’t doing my work well and if I had I would have paid a tad less – still, just happy it landed here at Pictorama.

The text on the back roughly seems to translate as, My Dear Cante, I hope this finds you well. Since you left something about mother and a bad head cold and bad weather. I hope it will be fine and it will ruin things if everyone gets it. With love, Gaby L.H. Weirdly, although it has a canceled stamp I do not see an address so no idea how it was sent.

Reine’s full hair barely fits under her cat ear hat and she looks coyly out at the viewer. Her hands curled into faux claw paws. Her cat hat has huge whiskers and somewhat googly eyes. Her flowing gown has some colored highlights added and falls almost entirely off one shoulder. She looks like a real handful – one can only just imagine that act!

I am a bit amazed that nothing comes up on the internet when I search these performers – no posters, no theatrical listings. For now, except for these photos, they are really lost in the cracks of time.

Back Up? Why Yes…

Posted by Pam's Pictorama

Pam’s Pictorama Post: This scrappy little feline is issuing a warning – Back up! Cigar in mouth, claw paws and fixed stare, he chomps on a cigar which casts a reddish glow on his face, spewing a plume of smoke. His scratching paws show claws on the ground. He might be old and tatty but he can still fight a good fight. Although I think the admonishment means Get Back I think it also alludes to having your back up.

There is a small squiggle in the lower left corner and while I thought it was a spider or other insect, I now think it is someone’s way of signing their images. Google Images was not able to help me, however I now know that this was actually a woman’s suffrage image which I had not guessed. (I have a few suffragette items, which are frequently about cats, and a post about one is here.) It does make some sense now that I know it. It belongs to a series of cards featuring this tatty tom. This card was never used or mailed.

*Votes for Women statue. Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.*

Cards like this referred to the changing social role of women and aligning them with cat like characteristics. I look at Cookie and Blackie this morning and I am not quite sure what characteristics they are referring to – I may be missing the point. (Cookie has been pacing the apartment and meowing at us and Blackie is napping on the couch. Neither seems politically idealistic.) I am not so thick however, that I don’t understand that this is a flinty, tough kit who is ready to engage their claws on all comers. Me-ow!

*From the same series but not in Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.*

I think I chose today’s card because we are mid-summer here in NYC and I am at sixes and sevens. A thoughtful colleague asked what I had enjoyed most about summer so far and my first thought is how hot and wet it has been and I could hardly come up with a pleasant answer. Work has been busy (event in Sag Harbor a week ago) and other than the temperatures and the humidity it has not felt like summer at all. We are generally frayed and on edge here. My fur is standing on end!

Next week sees our month long move to the Jersey shore and some vacation. I am hoping to restore my equilibrium and my spirits with long evenings on the porch among the dahlias and the hummingbirds which come to snack in the evenings. I want to eat my homegrown Jersey tomatoes, local corn and peach ice cream, along with grilling some fish. I want to drink an iced drink and read on the deck with Kim also reading in a chair across from me. (We have a towering pile of books we are bringing!) August is designed to smooth our fur and get us ready for the coming fall ahead.

Two Is Company

Posted by Pam's Pictorama

Pam’s Pictorama Post: Oh the poor rejected lover kitty! His beloved caroling away with her paramour. So sad! Is she truly fickle? Did they etch their initials together previously in this tree trunk? Or are those the initials of the lovers he he walking by? Or was the affection all on his side? It was not meant to be.

Our third wheel is in a strange stance – partial fight and somewhat flight as the bottom half of him already seems to be walking away while the top half looks back. He wears a nice bow, unlike the singing lover, although Miss Kitty has a red collar on. The cat couple only have eyes for each other so they don’t even see him behind the tree – alas. I’m fairly sure that the toad stools growing at the base of the tree are symbolic. (Danger, poison and no less than Existential Dread according to the internet.)

This card has an embossed quality and was never mailed, nothing is written on the back. It was produced by Souvenir Postcards of New York and Berlin. I assume it was riding the crest of the Wain-esque cat craze of the post-Victorian era. Although anthropomorphic like his these cats are less pointedly satirical. Not sure who you’d send this card to where they wouldn’t feel like you were making some sort of point or message.

This card points to the whisp-o-will nature of cat affection and, shall we say, coupling of felines. I have limited personal experience of this beyond one cat, Winkie, that managed to evade our window of spaying post-adoption slip out and find a tabby with whom she had a brief liaison resulting in four kittens.

*My sister Loren holding the mysterious Miss Winkie.*

In retrospect, it is hard to associate those kittens with her as she made short shrift of her affiliation with them. We kept them, two gray, a tabby and a orange tiger. They became: Ping and Pong, Tigger, and Squash. Ping was a smart female and Pong a (very) dopey male. Tigger was a nice and very pretty tabby who sadly wandered off, was found once and did it again. (Our cats were free range in those days.)

Meanwhile Squash turned out to be a pale long drink of an orange cat – so long it was like he had an extra vertebrae or two. As a result would often sit on his haunches, like a human on the couch or in an armchair, comfortably bent completely in two. (My brother Edward once declared of Squash, Survives but never thrives, which seemed pointedly accurate. I have to admit that I have no memory of when Squash passed out of our lives as I wasn’t living home at the time but neither do I remember the report.)

Squash was in most other ways a rather undistinguished fellow living quietly in a multitude of cat personalities. (The kitten event had swelled the family total to unforeseen highs!) However, his distinguishing characteristic was his affection for one of the other cats. He was the rare cat in that house who would seek out another and sleep with his arms around him.

Peaches, one of the Jersey Five of cats, hates everyone (man and beast) it would seem, except the elderly cat Milty. She stealthily climbs up on a chair and curls up asleep with him. Milty, whose precise age is not known to me but a rough calculation has around 20, is largely the benevolent figurehead of senior male in that house. He likes to have a brief go at every dish of food as it is put down but otherwise he’s pretty chill.

*Peaches, left, with the ever patient Milty.*

Meanwhile, the role of senior cat largely belongs to the four year old enormous all black male, Beauregard or Beau. That said Blackie, of the visiting New York cats, believes himself to be senior cat when we are in NJ. Beau will take a certain amount of that since B doesn’t eat with them which would probably cause the imminent collapse of that small kingdom.

There are occasional blow ups and one took place last summer while I was on a call with the two Board Chairs from work. That said, if you are going to have a cat fight explosion while on an important work call its good that you work for an animal hospital. They are very forgiving about animal interruptions on zoom.

*Blackie, looking entirely black since we can’t see the white star on his chest.*

Going back to Winkie, who was a very smart little polydactyl calico cat. Having produced said kittens (in my parent’s closet, the carpet was never quite the same) and caring for them a scant amount of time she pretended that she had no memory of them nor where they came from and generally treated them with a superior attitude and disgust as interlopers we’d wished on her one day. Such is the attitude of cats.

Tail End

Posted by Pam's Pictorama

Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today I have a somewhat odd Louis Wain card which I have to assume is an early one, before he found his feline métier in the more satirical and representational vision of cats. This black one is loaded up with symbols of luck – a black cat being lucky in Great Britain, if not here in the US. (Proving them to be sensible sorts in this regard – in my opinion!)

This card was never used and is attributed to the Alphalsa Publishing Company in London. This company seems to have existed, under shifting names, between 1910 and 1930, although there is an intimation that the archive from it existed into the 1960’s when it was lost in a fire. The back of the card also identifies it as The Aloha Postcard. Louis Wain and Alpha get credit on the bottom front of this card.

*A somewhat peevish Blackie on my lap the other morning. He wanted my chair.*

This kit is grinning from ear to ear and doesn’t seem to mind the bag of gold piled atop his head. He has symbols of luck and prosperity tied to his tail (don’t try this at home) and around his neck – those ancient symbols (still used for their original purpose in Eastern cultures) which a decade or two later became swastikas. A horseshoe is thrown in for good measure although I was always told that they should go in the other direction in order to keep the luck from pouring out.

In addition to fortune, this card is promoting Health, Wealth and Goodluck to the Very Tail End. I like the idea that this little fellow is good luck to the tip of his tail. While not being especially superstitious about luck symbols – good or bad – I can appreciate picking up a good heads up penny now and then.

*Beauregard during a recent visit to NJ.*

I, of course, subscribe to the black cats are good luck theory – thank you Beauregard and Blackie! Blackie cheats it with a white badge on his chest and some hidden on his tummy. You need to look really closely at Beau (one of the Jersey five) to find a few white hairs on his chest. Kim has a theory that the white star on the chest was an evolutionary move to protect all black cats from superstitious fear.

Meanwhile, I am utterly sold on the friendly good tempered nature of male black cats which I have only discovered with these two – a longstanding tuxedo fancier I love them but they tend to another personality altogether. Cookie is a girl of course which is quite different anyway, but she is comparatively shrill and less easy going than her fraternal counterpart.

Leaping?

Posted by Pam's Pictorama

Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: It’s a cute kitten post today with this somewhat scrappy looking fellow or gal. For no particular reason I am going to say fellow – something about the build. You have to look a bit carefully to see Sautera? printed at the bottom.

This card was never mailed and there is nothing written on the back. It was produced by Reutlinger Studio, Paris. These were popular photo postcard producers at the dawn of the 20th Century. (There are a few other postcards in my collection by this Peruvian born French photographer. Those posts and more about him can be found here and here. Reutlinger evidently lost an eye to a champagne cork – how very French! A very bad for the photography business as well. And also to note, I always wrap a champagne bottle in a towel before opening.)

When I purchased this card I was thinking that this kitty was perched on a martini style glass (falling into the drink sort of thing), but instead it appears to be a glass funnel of sorts. Try as I might, I cannot figure out what is at the bottom of the funnel, pebbles perhaps? (I considered olives when I thought this was a martini glass.)

It is tucked into the glass neck of a large bottle – and in fact, even if that kit is quite small the funnel and bottle must be quite large – it would have made a truly man-sized martini in retrospect. Having said that, toward the end of his life my father became very enamored of martinis and purchased a few very large martini glasses, but perhaps not quite cat-sized.

A quick translation of Sauterna? from the French is Jumping? I guess he is planning to since curling up on or in the rim of that funnel isn’t going to do much for him. He does have a thoughtful look on his little mug though – a tiny kitten, staring into the void.

There seems to have been a series of these cards and with this very cat, which I have found online and share below. The second one seems to have been more recently appropriated.

Cats are ace jumpers. They seem to understand not only their own overall capacity for the leap, but have the ability to size up distance and other factors which you can see get calculated in their brain. Those of us who live with cats have seen them study such a situation, sometimes resulting in a preliminary butt wiggle – the tail is essential to the balancing act of the cat – especially when it is a floor up trajectory. A cat rarely misses its mark with a jump – and are very embarrassed if they do. I had a little girl tuxie, Otto Dix, who seemed to just float upward. It was as if all she needed to do was think about being somewhere and land there.

And who hasn’t stood poised in a similar, if metaphorical, position? There have been a few notable times in my life where there was a leap to be made. I always think of leaving my job at the Metropolitan Museum to go to Jazz at Lincoln Center as an enormous leap – which it was. I almost broke my neck but I found my footing eventually.

The more recent vocational leap was to the animal hospital I raise money for and that was less dramatic, but a bit of a leap nonetheless. (Posts about those professional leaps of faith can be found here, here and here, although much of my time at Jazz was shared in the annals of this blog.) I am still finding my sea legs on that one so the jury remains out.

Bonus picture of Cookie and Blackie from early this morning – rare sleeping together pose!

Atlantic Highlands

Posted by Pam's Pictorama

Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today’s postcard, celebrating a local summer spot where I grew up in New Jersey, seems like a fitting Memorial Day holiday kick-off card. I purchased it at the postcard show bonanza of a few months ago with the intention of framing it for the house in NJ where I am gathering a few early cards of local spots I love.

This one was mailed on August 8, 1923 from Atlantic Highlands at 11 AM. It was mailed to Mr. Robert Del Paso, 44 Est 98th Street, New York. Written on the back is a brief note, Best regards to you and your sister from Dorothy and Eugene.

The view shown here is the one that you now see from the ferry when it pulls in. It looks nothing like this now, a small public beach is at the landing and some low condos not far beyond. Boats dock nearby and restaurants and small businesses dot the edge of the water along with some houses, although you don’t see those right in this spot either, as it is largely in the shadow of a much larger bridge.

The approach to Atlantic Highlands via ferry from 2021.

The first time I took the ferry into Atlantic Highlands, the sense memory of that spot was amazing. On the occasions I would go sailing with my dad or on the creaking wooden fishing boat of my grandfather, the Imp, we would head first under one bridge and then the other and to the bay or ocean. The sense of history smacked me hard being on that spot of the water again.

I have touched on this Jersey shore enclave before, not long ago in a post about Bahr’s Restaurant which can be found here. I opined on the thoughts I had about living there at one time, and the history of that restaurant where I had what turned out to be a last birthday dinner with my sister, a few decades past now.

Atlantic Highlands, and it’s kissin’ cousin Highlands, abut the area of the shore I grew up in. (Highlands is the hamlet slightly further into the river side, Atlantic Highlands faces out toward the ocean and beyond.) However, while Sea Bright, a spit of land that adjoins it, was an almost daily destination, the Highlands while hard by, somehow were the route less taken. I believe that this was probably largely due to beach traffic and while being almost within shouting distance as the crow flies it was rarely the shortest way to go anywhere from Memorial Day through Labor Day.

*The parking lot for the ferry, next to the small public beach and some condos.*

Once I hit high school we made it part of our route when traffic died down late in the evening. We ate lobster rolls and drank beer at shacks at the edge of the river at the junction where the bay joins the river and the ocean. Also on our route was a movie theater that showed films recently fallen out of circulation for an admission of $1.00. Beyond that, expensive restaurants that hugged the shore and gave a view as far as Manhattan on a clear day and those were beyond our means.

Atlantic Highlands, as shown in this postcard, attaches to Sandy Hook beach (and now state park) via the bay. Not only has this quaint wooden bridge been replaced, but the concrete one of my childhood (which seemed plenty big at the time, bigger than its Sea Bright counterpart which required a draw bridge function for the passing parade of boats) was replaced very recently by a true behemoth of a bridge.

The one in Sea Bright is also under reconstruction and I gather will no longer be the draw bridge of my childhood – it’s opening hourly in the summer was how we timed our days in the summer in order to avoid it and the traffic back-up it would cause. I had a boyfriend in high school who had a summer job working the bridge which was a great gig and the retirement job of numerous fishermen. I don’t know how, in retrospect, Ed got that job but many envied him it. I am sorry to say I never visited the tiny shack mid-bridge that was the man cave you stayed in if you worked the bridge.

I’m also sorry to have to say that one of the people I spent the most hours with in Atlantic Highlands is gone now. A long former boyfriend, I had fallen out of touch with Sam Lutz, and found out via local connections that he died a few years ago.

I suspect I will eventually return to writing about this area. For some reason it lives in my memory in a way other places do not. However, for now, this rosy sun setting over the Highlands hills is a good place to leave Pictorama for the holiday weekend as I head out there shortly.

Some Tale

Posted by Pam's Pictorama

Pam’s Pictorama Post: Kicking off the Memorial Day weekend with this somewhat military cat card. Given the general lack of sympathy among cats for each other (some special cases notwithstanding) this gray kit has a tough time convincing his rather intense superior officer that he is under the weather. The long paw of the law as represented by this black cat, cap forward, is very upright as he judges this underling wanting. I love our cat Blackie but boy, I wouldn’t want him judging me – he’d look just like this I think. It’s an odd card and it was the black cat in particular that sold me on it. (Of course Blackie is constantly judging us – not to mention his sister Cookie!)

The two tiny identifying markers on the front of the card are Oilette and FEM. The tracks on FEM are obscured or gone but I am told that Oilette seems to be best known as a series of postcards that were made to look like oil paintings for the famed Tuck postcard company, as opposed to this very water color like illustration. Someone drawing it really knew cats however. This is a Tuck card as well.

The postmark is obscured but it was mailed from Clapham SW and probably on November 17. It is addressed to Miss C. Steer, Lower Froyle, Nr Alton, Hants. The recipient appears to be the sister of the writer who pens, Dear Con, just a card, we received the parcel safely and very many thanks for them, Margie was going to write but she has so many home lessons (?) to do. Sorry Mothers feet are so bad hope they will be better love to D and of course Mother and yourself. Yours best from us all. xxxxx An additional note was added in pencil at the top, received mother’s letter this morning 8.11.17. Even today Lower Froyle seems to be a fairly remote part of Hampshire according to Google.

This takes me to a bit of a tangent sick leave seems to be something that is being phased out, or perhaps it just is where I work now. Instead of sick leave there are PTO days and you can use them for sick or annual leave. (Not sure how Planned Time Off is waking up with the sniffles but okay I guess.) There is additional accrued sick leave for more substantial illness, surgery and the like and you need a doc’s note to take that.

As someone who doesn’t take a lot of sick leave it doesn’t especially affect me a lot, but it seems like a bad trend and a bit unfriendly too – like this card. I do believe that if folks are sick they should stay home and get better. Covid should have taught us that if nothing else and I don’t especially want to get sick because they have come to the office rather than take the day off. Meanwhile, I have substantial oral surgery coming up and I did get a note from my doc and will take a day and a half of medical leave for it – its on the Thursday so I am going to assume with the weekend I will be back in the saddle on the Monday.

These are a bit bleak, if somewhat military associated, as thoughts go on the first (if cloudy and cold) morning of a three day holiday weekend. (Former Memorial Day posts attest to the routine cold and wetness of my childhood living near the beach. One can be found here.) Tomorrow I head to New Jersey where I will, somewhat belatedly, get my dahlias planted in pots on the porch to start the season. I believe there are some geraniums blooming in the kitchen that can go back out front in those pots where they will be cheerful and deer deterring. We’ll hope for a jollier post tomorrow!

Stand Over Tom and Let Puss Eat

Posted by Pam's Pictorama

Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today we have more from the deep well of postcards purchased a few months ago. This is an odd card, part of a series that seemed to all be along this sort of theme of two cats snubbing one.

On my card it there is the name Hochhausler with a distinct initial E although I see them with a first initial A online. Either way Hochhausler has not left much of a trail to be picked up online and it isn’t clear to me, but I think this is the producer of cards rather than the artist, however hard to say.

Someone has written on both sides of this card, contributing a bit of drama to the overall effect. At the bottom of the front in pencil, stand over Tom and let Puss eat the bread without salt and then, under the black and white tabby holding the music, Puss and the other identified as Tommy. Seems to me that it is the other cat they should be worried about. (Incidentally, it seems that something was written and erased, now illegible, under the other cat.) And who among us with cats hasn’t had to ensure that one doesn’t eat it all – Blackie, I’m talking about you!

Meanwhile, we have two snotty cats being mean to the third. All three are striped tabby types and the one is skulking away (as cats will) tail tucked where we can’t see it. Clearly these other two are rule the roost popular types that one meets as a youngster. Poor kit! Meanwhile, Tommy has a book under his arm which has Reich Commers (?) inscribed on the front. The card predates the world wars so it can’t be a reference to Reich Commerce and so the sharpness of the commentary somewhat lost on us. This belongs to a series of cat cards with this two against one as a theme, but I was unable to share the few scant further examples from the internet.

This series would likely be in response to the popularity of Louis Wain at the time and people trying to cop his take on social intercourse via cat drawings. This would perhaps go in the, it’s harder than it looks category of cards as the acid take falls a bit flatter than the Wain equivalent which would laugh up its sleeve at the full of themselves instigators as well.

On the back of the card it says, I am getting along fine with the cats. They take their places fine but puss has never come back. I am going to bake bread today but am going to sell (?) it. It is addressed to Carrie Duckworth–Chariton R.R. Iowa c/o Earnest Duckworth. The cancellation is hard to read but appears to be August, 1902. We can see that this postcard series was distributed in Europe as well as in the US, my guess is that it is European in origin.

The card is unsigned – clearly the recipients were just expected to know who sent it. Oh my. Now I am worried about Puss who never came back. She sounds very blithe about the cats left in her care! And there is the remark about letting Puss eat the bread without salt. Hmmm. (I happen to like salt on my buttered bread but maybe not what she is referring to?)

I will be left hoping that Puss either came home or found better digs elsewhere as roaming cats will if their needs are not fully met – and perhaps even if they are. I read many stories online about cats who beg in neighborhoods and are fed by a number of people assuming they are strays and the only one feeding them. One day they are otherwise enlightened as someone identifies themselves as the kit’s owner – proving however in a sense that no one ever really owns a cat.