Catskills

Wild Cats: Catskills Part One

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Among my postcard pile are several cat related cards that advertise the early 20th century pleasures of the Catskill Mountains. Today I kick off a several part post which promises a bit of meandering through both the card and my memories of the region which I frequented during my childhood and into young adulthood, the Catskills.

Somewhere in my mind there is a parallel universe where I either live there or have a house there rather than at the Jersey shore. However mountains seem to have a very different effect on me than the water which tends to energize me with the light and air. Mountain valleys seem to cast you in their shadow and for me are sleepier. I am not sure even I understand this entirely, but has been a nagging thought since childhood when we would visit cousins there.

Looking up the name or word Catskill it seems it comes from the Dutch meaning wild cat creek – more along the lines of the kind of feline (think mountain lion or catamount) that would cheerfully tear you to bits or perhaps a wild mountain stream water body that would? That has little to do with this very jolly crew I offer today. Mine are more like partying, wild, mad fellows.

Eleven pussycats of striped and white variations bear balloons spelling out their destination CATSKILL MTS. Each appears to be in possession of a balloon except the drivers of each of these early open cars. (The driver cats are responsibly paying attention to the road, safety first, and have no balloons – although somehow there are still eleven balloons!) I do pause to wonder, did the motor cars have tops you could pull over in inclement weather? Probably not so wow, were they ever chilly in the winter – but I guess a horse carriage or ride no less so. Since our card presents the land of summer I will guess there were no worries about that here.

All is portrayed with great realism and the famous mountains of the area climb upward behind them, dust flying from their wheels. I like the headlights on these cars, four apiece. It took me a bit before I realized that there are three cars, not two, the back one mostly obscured in the dust.

At the lower left corner, it declares, Drawing only Copyright by Albert Hahn NY. Not exactly sure what else Mr. Hahn could copyright here – the name Catskill? Then, to further confuse the issue it also is signed W. Reiss very lightly in the lower right. I can find nothing about him.

Only version of the Rip Van Winkle series I could find. Not in Pictorama collection.

There are some tracks for Albert Hahn as a cat card producer – at least to say there are other cards produced under his name. I cannot find much information about him or his career and he quickly seems to get confused with a better known Dutch political cartoonist (AI’s weakness seems to be this sort of meshing of people if you aren’t careful) who I believe is someone else entirely.

However, I could find enough evidence of him Hahn to know he produced a series of postcards about the Spirit of Rip Van Winkle between 1907 and 1909, a sole image from that found on an old eBay listing and shared above. This of course refers to the popular story by Washington Irving, and which as luck would have it, Kim just read recently. Meanwhile, I purchased another Hahn cat card which I will share subsequently.

I don’t see his copyright info but this also came up under his name. Not in Pictorama collection.

A simple message in script is written on the back, Tell father that the package was received last evening. I’m getting along nicely. Auntie Jean. It was mailed to, Master Wm. B. Rankin, Tenafly, NJ box 1540. It was mailed from East Wyndham, NY on August 6, 1907. East Wyndham appears to be an enclave in the Catskills, north of Kingston. The back of the card confirms that it was is No. 2000 Published by Albert Hahn, 229 B’way, N.Y., Germany.

Another comical card from this series. Apologies I couldn’t find a better version of the image!

So I leave you today, a chilly fall morning, with this jovial image of summer days. Apartment cleaning and some cooking beckons and is bringing me back to the reality of a fall day here in Manhattan.

Catville

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: Of course this little fellow and his pun just cracked me up! I’m not entirely sure what exactly he is perched on, but he has a very serious expression and has a very nice striped coat. This card, mailed on August 24, 1914 at 8AM from Oliverea, New York has a slightly primitive look. Despite having spent a fair amount of time in the Catskills, the name Oliverea was not immediately familiar to me. It should have been since it is not far from Big Indian, where I spent a considerable amount of time visiting a long ago boyfriend on weekends. He was cooking at a place called Rudy’s Big Indian – which despite its name was a fairly high-end restaurant in the new cuisine mold of the time, the late 1980’s. In this case it was the kind of food that lead eventually to the farm to table trend of today, local produce and such. My memory was that the owner was a really sweet guy who was very good to the utterly insane guy I was seeing. He was a Buddhist who had been helped by people and was paying it back, but the boyfriend, Andrew, drove us all nuts. I think I heard Rudy died unexpectedly, several years after I had severed ties with Andrew after his post-cocaine sobriety morphed into stage 2 alcoholism. Meanwhile, the restaurant was evidently bought and is now under the name Peekamoose.

Prior to my disasterous, long-distance relationship with Andrew (which briefly turned me into a weekend denizen of Amtrak, staying in nearby Shandaken, and ultimately made me realize that living in the shadow of mountains depresses me terribly) I had grown up visiting cousins in Sullivan county and had a more cheerful opinion of it. The cousins, three of them two girls and a boy, just like the three of us – each Butler a year older than their cousin counterpart. We would run wild in what seemed like endless woods at the back of their house and go swimming in a lake instead of the ocean as we did at home which therefore seemed exotic. They had a huge dog, a Great Dane I think, instead of a German Shepard like ours. It was like a parallel-universe Butler clan located in the Catskills instead of the Jersey shore. It was also the house where my dad had gone for summers as a kid, up fro the City, with this same cousin and his sister – and they would tell us stories of all the bad and interesting things they had done. I only vaguely remember the stories about exploring caves, riding horses and getting yelled at by their aunts. I imagine they were a handful.

As you can see from the back of the card below, this was mailed to Master Paul E. Rooffs (? – I’m open to suggestions on the name) at 890 East 34th Street, Brooklyn, New York. (On a whim I googled this address and found a house that I thought very well might have been there in 1914, but further research showed that it was built in 1920.) To the best I can read the card it says, Aug. 23 – Dear Paul I wish you were here to [sic] with us. I have a good time riding in the Ford and also go swing [or swimming misspelled?] with aunt Will. Expect to go home by the end of the week with lots of love I remain lovingly – it is signed with a name I cannot decode (Suzanna?) and also written at the bottom is Vonderveer Park.

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Back of Catskill card

 

It goes without saying that a text message will deliver this communication between friends or family more quickly and efficiently today. It will, alas, sadly never have the evocative charm of finding this kitty and message more than a hundred years later. Pity the card collectors of the next century.