memoir

Milton the Cat

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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.

January

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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.)

Spectacular rooftop 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.

Photo of My Dad

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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.

Dustless

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: I find it very hard to resist a good vintage tin box; I just cannot. They immediately stir my imagination and I am sure I have a million uses for them. Generally this is true as well, although occasionally one doesn’t take for some reason. I purchased this one at the antiques mall in NJ thinking it would go to my new office and it may still, although as I settle into that space I am still figuring out surface area and needs.

I have another, much larger, version of this tin which is kept in the bedroom in NJ, also pristine, long and narrow, housing night table odds and ends and keeping them away from prying pussycat paws – who would take great joy in gently knocking each thing onto the floor while I try to sleep. Maybe a future post on that tin, but it does make me reflect on the pristine condition of these crayon boxes in particular. Perhaps the dustless as advertised meant nice clean tins.

View from the new office.

I wonder if this tin contained crayons such as the much beloved Crayolas of my childhood or if this was a tin for something more like pastels or chalk. An-du-septic makes me think more like pastels or chalks. This was a term coined by Binney & Smith, the forefathers of Crayola in about 1902. It seems to sort of mean sort of anti-dust and clean.

The tin boasts, Gold Medal Crayons for Every Use as part of its trademark on the top. They liked their patent and trade mark info at Crayola and the side is devoted to it further with a Patent notice and Where color is required use a gold medal product.

In addition to identifying Binney & Smith Co. New York and it says one gross which seems like a heck of a lot as this box only measures about 3″x5″and 4″ deep.

I am a child of the large yellow and green Crayola era, the one with the built in sharpener. Despite a world of color choices there were always the ones the wore down quickest and those which sat largely little used. Not all crayons applied to paper equally well and even as a kid you also figure those things out. The sort of neon colors intrigued but could best only be used for highlighting. Gold and silver fascinated as well, but were only somewhat useful. I am having trouble remembering all the colors I thought were troublesome, but things like red and hot pink wore down quickly. Always very fond of a sort of aqua blue and was pretty popular.

This seems like the large flat box I received at one point.

As I write this Kim is at his desk, hard at work on my Valentine’s Day picture. (Prior Kim Valentine’s Day works can be found featured in posts here, here and here. It is an annual tradition that goes back many years to when we first started dating. Watch for that reveal in February!) He is using colored pencil and somewhat coincidentally, was talking about how much he disliked crayons even as a child because they never went on with any consistency. Even as a tiny tot this irritated the nascent Kim Deitch as artist! I know what he means though – you could layer on to get some consistency. (In the photos above taken on his desk you can see the colored pencils in use ready and waiting.)

For all of that, my research pretty much confirms that this box housed chalk sticks and that this particular box probably dates from about 1935.

At some point in my childhood someone gave me a much larger flat box of crayons which I have not seen before or since, about the size of a gameboard. It had more crayons and a sharpener within. I don’t believe it caught on however. I was fascinated to find the box, above, online when I looked.

The very traditional box of which I had many.

Meanwhile, Cray-pas were another whole kettle of fish and were almost too juicy to control. And I didn’t have the kind of childhood where there were opportunities to use chalk on a sidewalk or other pavement. I have documented some of the chalk drawings I used to encounter in the park running and so we know that chalk use is alive and well today by kids.

Where this tin ends up and what it holds remains to be seen. If you just have to have one you easily can – they are very available, many quite clean like this one, on various sites including eBay. I think I am still feeling it for my desk at work. Enjoy it for what it is – a pristine reminder of a beloved childhood favorite.

In with the New

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today’s card was purchased in advance for this pending holiday purpose. When I bought it I had no idea we would celebrate the holiday with snow on the ground as we haven’t had this much in several years. Still, not enough to make our own snowman – or maybe just a mighty tiny one.

This card was mailed in France in 1913. We’ll assume that the snowman this kid perches on the shoulders of is made of sterner stuff than snow. He looks pretty pleased with himself as he, snowball in hand, lords his position over his presumed siblings. Potted fir trees are on either side and there is a painted or photographed scene behind them, snow and ice – perhaps for skating. Everyone is in their holiday best attire.

Back of the card.

Although the fall always brings a certain back-to-school mentality to my perspective, there is no question that putting the end point on one year and starting another is a moment of reflection. To top it off, my birthday is in February so I will remain somewhat on this introspective jag for a bit.

Last year this time I was closing the chapter on my time at Jazz at Lincoln Center after almost seven years and heading into the unknown of a new job. As someone who has only changed jobs a scant three or so times in my life, this caused understandable fretting. (Last year’s post can be found here.) It saw the dawn of my dental woes which have remained with me into the coming year. However, I am more resigned to that mess.

Long cold hallway of our current offices.

So it is with somewhat less trepidation than last year that I commence the New Year. The job is more familiar now as I round the bend of one year in January. However, that is not to say that I in any way have it under my belt. More like I have taken stock over the past year and now I have to map a plan for growth and change – in a sense the work has just begun!

Meanwhile, my office is moving on January 6 and therefore an additional sense of turning over a new leaf. Our current offices, which have the sense of being temporary but where they have been housed for about five years, will not be missed with its leaks, mice and noise. The new offices are nicer – not perfect, a bit squeezed, but cleaner and nicer.

Holiday Card and Decoration

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today is the great Deitch Studio holiday card reveal! Apologies up front to those of you who are still waiting for your card in the mail (um, most of you) as we are way behind schedule this year. I am the keeper of the holiday card schedule and I take full responsibility! I know folks who like to have the surprise of theirs in hand before the online reveal. Alas, Blackie’s unscheduled Thanksgiving trip to the kitty ER (that cat tale can be found here) had a ripple effect and our cards were not in hand until earlier this week. Most of your cards are being launched from the Fair Have post office on Monday – think of them as New Year’s cards this year!

Sadly the celluloid Santa did not make the trip to NJ unscathed! Bought these in NYC and packed with extraordinary care, alas!

Speaking of Blackie – he ran us a merry chase yesterday trying to get him packed in his carrier for the early morning trip to NJ. He wedged himself in a tiny space underneath our futon which defies grabbing him without removing the mattress from the bed entirely. Nonetheless, we eventually got him and arrived here mostly intact early yesterday and devoted most of the day to addressing those cards!

Onto the card! This is a sort of sequel to last year’s card. Some think it achieves more highly, others favor card number one. For my part I am pleased with my likenesses of the various cats. Peaches and Gus in particular, but all of them are pretty good. Beau and Blackie are in costume – reindeer and Santa respectively. Everyone else lightly accessorized at best.

My original pencil.

It is the living room of the house here in New Jersey. There is a fireplace here, although I doubt it will return to being wood burning in my lifetime. (An absurd amount of work needs to be done to the inside of the chimney to make it safe – something about lining the inside with ceramic.) I have toyed with a gas or electric insert for it – maybe next year.

Among the sale items at Lowe’s – these were about $3.50 a box!

For those of you who are new to the card tradition, each year Kim and I collaborate on a Christmas card. It has evolved into my drawing it in pencil and then him inking it. I offer the original drawing for consideration. For those of you who missed it last year or want to compare and contrast, the ’23 card post can be found here and the card is below. The post can be found here.

The 2023 card.

Meanwhile, thus far the house is only decorated with this wreath on the front door. However, yesterday on a trip to Lowe’s to procure something to melt the ice on the front steps, I discovered boxes of old-fashioned, large colored lights on sale, 75% off – meaning each box was about $3.50. (Those inclined can probably still score these online.) Well, while I had not considered lights for the house or yard I immediately purchased several boxes and an extension cord. I also bought jolly large ornaments which I will hang from a light post out front.

Good buy on over-sized break proof ornaments for outside.

I am hoping we can wander over to the Red Bank Antiques Annex and look for a nice Santa for the mantel so with me luck! I will post an update here and on Instagram if I find one!

Holiday Migration

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: We are (mostly) packed and at the ready to head to New Jersey this morning. It is still pitch black out as I write this, but here in New York we got our first snow flakes in a long time yesterday. I think the ground was too warm full there to be a frosting of it out there, but we’ll see what Monmouth County has, if any.

Although there is a certain feeling of routine to it, this is only the second year we are spending in New Jersey for the holidays. We are still finding our stride with it. While there are packages of gifts and essentials, I usually take the opportunity to move a few bulky items to the house there while we are packing up a car.

Christmas breakfast with Eileen Travell yesterday before leaving town. I gave her this pretty little blue and white bowl.

Rides With Cash is a car service I have used since I commuted frequently during my mom’s last illness. (I posted about it previously here.) Jeff, the proprietor, brings his unfailingly wonderful Aussie, Cash, with him and I get a dog cuddle in as well. Now that Cookie and Blackie share some of these rides they are less thrilled with Cash but the car is large enough for a generous separation of cats in carriers and dog!

Cash sitting in the front seat during our summer sojourn.

Although more frequent commutes from New Jersey in recent years has mentally shrunk the distance between the two locations, bringing the cats and going to stay is still definitely a maneuver which requires forethought and planning. Somehow the holidays got away from us this year and I feel a bit like we are going to land in a heap. Blackie’s Thanksgiving holiday illness set us back a bit schedule-wise and there will be a holiday card reveal tomorrow while we are still sending out the bulk of our mailed cards! (Apologies in advance to those of you who don’t like your surprise ruined.)

We had our annual Top Dog Gala at work last week. We honored the NYP’s K9 unit and the dogs we care for on the force. Centerpieces complete with usable leash were for sale at the end of the event.

Blackie is better, although he required yet another trip to the vet this week – puffy eye. We aren’t sure but maybe his sister socked him, or he got something in it which made him rub it a bit raw. He is somewhat demoralized by gooping three times a day and I’m sure this trip out of state will get on his last little cat nerve. (It is finally getting light and it has indeed snowed and there appears to be a half inch or so on the ground.)

For those of you who are new to the fold – five additional cats await our arrival in New Jersey. My mom left me her cats who continue to reside in the house there where they are cared for. Our visits mean a house full of seven cats. What was my mother thinking?

All staff holiday party. My colleagues had spent the day in the lobby playing Santa and Elf to visiting animals who could have their picture taken.

For all of this, going there for the holidays is very soothing for me . Like many folks, I feel the loss of family and friends most keenly at this time of year. Being in the area I grew up in and being around the people there mitigates it somewhat and blunts the blow of the sharp edges. I know it is asking a lot of Kim and the cats who would much rather stay in New York. However, going as a family and having everyone I love together in one place for a few weeks is special to me.

So, a brief entry today an unsuspecting Cookie and Blackie to be placed in their carriers shortly. More from the other side. Let the holidays commence!

Holiday: Gifts!

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Last weekend’s trip, which started with our holiday nostalgia train ride as memorialized in yesterday’s post, was largely a shopping venture. I had a few places I wanted to investigate and it was time to pick up coffee from my favorite establishment. Porto Rico Importers has been in business since 1907 with three New York City locations (Bleecker, St. Marks and Essex Street) and I became a true devotee a couple of years ago. I frequent the St. Mark’s one although I guess the Bleecker is the original site.

Porto Rico Coffee Importers last week.

Located next to my eyeglass store (Anthony Aiden Opticians – I have worn transitional lenses for years and I swear by them for the care they take in executing my prescriptions), on St. Mark’s I make periodic trips and buy several pounds of coffee at a time and freeze it. After much experiment I have settled on the Danish blend. I bought four pounds and one will come to Jersey next week. There was a long line out the door of their tiny outpost last Sunday, but it moved quickly and I was undeterred. There is a bench out front and the weather was good so Kim read his book there.

Pams-Pictorama.com purchase in October, John Derian for Target.

One can purchase their coffee online and have it shipped. If you have enough space in your freezer, free shipping starts at orders of $75 or more. I do not and I have the option of occasional trips downtown to purchase it. If you are curious their website can be found here.

A nice ceramic version available at John Derian or online, but it’ll cost you!
I purchased a pair of these for a nominal amount via an online auction. August 2014 post about these Corbin Cats.

Another of my goals was to visit the John Derian store on 2nd Street. Pictorama readers might remember several months ago when I posted about a great stuffed cat I purchased from Target which was part of a Derian/Target collaboration. I thought it was worth a trip to the source. It was a bit crowded and I purchased a few small gifts including notecards of said same black cat. However I largely found it out of my price range. In some ways I think Mr. Derian is a brother from another mother, as our collecting sensibility is remarkably similar. He however then takes these items and repurposes them by reproducing them for sale. I can attest to paying less for some of the original items that his copies are made from.

Phebe’s all decked out for the holidays. We wondered about this 98 Street – Playland sign. Rye Playland??

I had a plan to stop in a hat store, a small independent designer by the name of Esenshel. It didn’t open until afternoon so Kim and I popped into Pageant prints and maps which I had no idea resided on East 4th Street. It turned into a goldmine of gift acquisition and I grabbed up three pages, neatly excised from The Book of Bow-Wows, and the original cover to boot. While I don’t really approve of the slicing and dicing of this old book, the pages nonetheless make great gifts for a few of my colleagues at work.

Just the cover to the book, sold for a few dollars separately.
Peering into Pageant.

A quick look tells me that you’ll pay up if you want the full copy of this book – as Kim pointed out, I could however, purchase a coverless copy! Illustrated by someone only known as Tad I cannot seem to find further tracks on him. The author, Elizabeth Gordon, seems to be better known for her Bird Children and Flower Children which were illustrated by other people. Those have seen more recent reprinting, however they are a little saccharine for my taste. The Book of Bow-Wows was written in verse and I have shared the now framed (thank you Amazon!) pages I chose for my gifts. (I am laboring under the impression that none of the people I purchased for are readers – apologies on the surprise thing if you are!)

Last, but in no way least, is this book litho illustration. Titled, La Morale en Images the line at the bottom roughly Google translates to: between the child and the animal a close intimate relationship had been established. At the bottom it also read, (La chien de Lord Byron).

Also, in the end yes, I did purchase a hat. It is a wool variation on the Russian wool hat my dad’s father wore. Lunch was had at Phebe’s Tavern, an establishment I have not entered in several decades. My main memory of it was that when I was in my 20’s they sold an extremely inexpensive pitcher of beer and there is a lingering memory of a hair of the dog Sunday afternoon there once. That notwithstanding, Kim bought us a lunch of excellent burgers before making our way back – this time on a regular modern subway uptown.

Holiday: Part One, the Train

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Like many folks somehow holiday activities here in Manhattan generally makes us burrow deeper in our apartments until all the fuss has passed rather than summoning us out. Accidentally finding yourself on the subway during Santa Con (the annual drunken Santa clad citywide pub crawl) is enough to send you screaming back to your apartment until well into the New Year.

While there was a time when I braved the crowds cheerfully to see the Thanksgiving Day balloons blown up on Central Park West, now I time a trip to New Jersey to be ensconced there the night before. (However some readers know that this year Blackie blew that plan up and I traveled back to New York on the Wednesday afternoon to take him to the kitty ER at work that evening. He is better and I ultimately I braved Penn Station and the parade again and returned to New Jersey to cook there. That post can be found here.)

For all of that, on a whim last weekend and knowing that Kim and I had a plan to head downtown for some shopping I needed to do, I decided that we would hop the Holiday Nostalgia train on Sunday as our mode of transportation. Sponsored by the Transit Museum in conjunction with the MTA, restored early subway cars are put back into commission on Sundays throughout December. This year the trains ran along a variation on the Q and F lines, starting up here on 96th Street and making our 86th Street and other UES stops before swinging east and taking us right to our destination near the Bowery.

Pro photo of another car empty.

Even at the second stop, ours, the train was already packed. (I guess the serious folks went up to 96th and got on there.) We squeezed in amongst people in period dress and a variety of Santa related and wildly festive costumes, as well as some other folks like us. I don’t know what I expected, but I was a bit disappointed at first because the crowd made some of the details of the train car harder to see. However, during the course of the ride we were pretty much able to take in everything, from the rattan seats to the period advertising reproduced for the occasion.

Vintage ads.

It was immediately apparent that the ride of the train felt very different – sort of the difference between a wooden rollercoaster and a modern one if you know what I mean. An old-fashioned paddle fan whirled away in the ceiling and the only ventilation were openings in the roof and the open door at the end of the car, at least in our case it was open. Incandescent light bulbs which you could have unscrewed while standing there lit it. Most notable though was the smell of the train – you could smell the diesel! We agreed, it smelled old.

Looking into the car ahead of ours.

At one point a man who clearly knew a thing or two about the history of the subway was standing next to me and explained that although the cars needed to be similar enough to be run together, every one was slightly different. (This made me a bit sorry it was too crowded to hop from car to car and see each.) I peered into the next car which did look somewhat different. According to a notice near the ceiling, our car was built in 1932. He also told me that the train would travel through some currently unused tunnels, allowing us to take our unusual route.

This kid took it upon himself to announce each stop as you would hear on a modern train – with all the special stops all correct though. Here he’s chatting with a couple who were visiting from Britain.

Soon enough our stop, the next to last for the train, came up and we hopped off. More of our adventure tomorrow. (What’s more there’s a rumor I might pinch hit as Santa for dog photos this coming week, so lots of festive fun here at Deitch Studio!)

Fleeting

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today I have a post of the cannot be and will not be of items that are not part of the Pictorama collection. It is the tantalizing netherworld of the might have been.

After all, I general troll constantly for one-of-a-kind objects that fit my areas of interest and therefore there is bound to be some loss among the gain and many failed attempts for a variety of reasons.

Sadly, today’s post is inspired by the worst kind of loss which has reminded me that to operate in my world one has to be prepared for a variety of eventualities.

To start with I have this wonderful Felix photo postcard for my collection and the sad inspiration for this post. Those longstanding readers know that these singular photo postcards of people posing with giant Felix dolls are the foundation of the photo side of my collection. I have not really assembled them to do a count but I own many and pretty much approach the situation as that these are must haves when they become available. Occasionally I lose one to a bid too low, but generally not for a healthy lack of trying. If you are going to wrestle it away from me you are going pay some serious money.

This card was not lost to another bidder, but saddest of all was won, paid for and now has gone missing in the mail! Searches have been completed and I even had a phone call from my mail woman. They can only confirm that it was delivered to the address of my high rise building – although they did go to the other buildings in the area to check. It has just disappeared. It was insured but because the post office says they delivered it the insurance won’t pay. I am out both the money but most importantly the card which is irreplaceable. It is a mystery. I share it here In Memoriam.

Copies being sold on eBay.

Up next is another whole and different category – the items I did not buy because they turned out to be reproductions. The language on some of these posts can be very hard to decipher – and occasionally all the way to deceptive. I am not actually saying that this one was deceptive however and I realized that this rather fascinating photo was a copy and did not purchase it. Somehow it remained in my watched folder of eBay to share with you today. That furry Felix costume is really weirdly memorable and he has the saddest Felix face! One should not ignore the charm of the donkey clad fellow on the other side. Hotsy totsy! I do wonder what the heck kind of vaudeville or other act this commemorated.

Lost in the confusion of a busy fall.

This nice Tuck card with a Louis Wain design was one of several offered by a Canadian seller. I admit to causing my own downfall as I was trying to purchase a group of them and got muddled. I made an offer which she turned down and then much later she ultimately made an offer, but I had my mind in other things (sadly I do actually have a job and try to get some work done Monday through Friday) and I missed that chance. Once I had myself together to circle back she has gone out of town with all on hiatus and I don’t know if it will ever happen now.

These cards do sell high and I appreciate that she bought them for her own collection and paid a lot – she just got me in a confused and busy moment. In the recent Louis Wain bio (Catland – review post is here) the author discusses how from the beginning Christmas or holiday illustrations and cards helped to make up the backbone of Wain’s annual income. His illustration of these cards were at the height of his career if I remember correctly. Meanwhile, I have several from the Felix collection and that post can be found here. Maybe more to come on these if she and I can sync up our communication.

Outlandishly high asking price.

This photo above has been kicking around in my watched folder for ages. As you can see, it bares the seller’s mark. They have named a ridiculous amount of money for it. While I understand that this is some sort of strategy I am not interested in engaging in a negotiation where someone is starting several hundred dollars more than I am willing to pay. This photo interests me, but not enough to engage in that dialogue. (It is still available for anyone who wishes to engage in the process!) I share the back as well. It is a press photo from February 28, 1931 of students from the Mardi Gras parade in the Latin Quarter of Paris looking into the Luxembourg Gardens.

Back of the photo above.

And sometimes I am just outbid. I try to be philosophical about that. If you are going to participate in auctions it will indeed happen. My father always gave me the advice his own mother gave him which is, figure out your maximum and stick to it. Gertie Butler was a true veteran of live auctions in her day – yes, I really do come by this interest naturally. She furnished an entire home with antiques this way. I often think of how much she would have loved eBay, although perhaps she liked the activity of going in person as well.

Lost to a high bidder.

Anyway, above is an example of a card that just went too high. Sometimes things go way high and at least there is comfort in that as I know I never would have paid that much. Other times, as in the case of this cat card, they go just beyond your top bid. I try to reassure myself that it isn’t likely that if I had gone just a tiny bit higher that it would be mine – after all, the person was likely to have gone higher too. It is just an illusion that you could have had it for a dollar more, probably not true.

This card has a lovely tuxie sitting on a sort of dressing table tray among potions, brushes and combs in order to admire the kitty in the mirror. I can’t tell if he understands that it is his image in the mirror or if he is among the type who thinks this fellow might be invading his turf – something about his expression makes me think the latter.

A never ran for Pictorama but very fun nevertheless.

I end today with a I will never own it because I didn’t bid on it item. This little gem of a wind-up ice cream seller from a Milestone Auction recently which I thought was super charming, but a bit outside my area of collecting. As it happens, many people must have agreed and it sold for a pretty rarified price. However, it passes through the Pictorama portals at least as a guest appearance as well.