Vintage Postcard

Hat’s Off

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: As I wake up on this pretty fall morning, the folks over here at WordPress told me that some of you are hard at work reading away. It is fun to see and thank you all as always for your dedicated reading and attention. It’s nice to know that you are out there and I hope you are enjoying your wander around the Pictorama world. Welcome today to all readers both new and longstanding. It pleases me to think that there are folks who want to read about cats, toys and my minor exploits.

I have an interesting little addition for this post, a postcard from the big buy a few weeks back, of a cat having chewed through a hat. Seems like an odd image to make a postcard of – have to wonder if the artist had a real incident on his mind. The cat is rather pleasantly benign for a chapeau eating demon. He is of the, aren’t I cute so you can’t possibly kill me school I guess. Why would he chew through a hat though? Must have been so pleasantly stinky.

This card appears to have been produced in Eastern Europe – ambitious felines there I guess. It is an embossed image, a very old, worn man’s hat with this sweet faced, long haired kit having munched through it. This card was mailed from Fort Scott, Kansas at 11 AM, on March 21, 1908.

Back of the card. Is actually a bit easier to read in this photo than in person.

The pencil writing on the back is very faded and a bit illiterate. The best I can make out is, 3-20-1908 avrr – all ok and a card from Pec. he did not say when he was coming back expect we wont come til Monday if you children are all well. love to all Mother. And it was addressed simply to: Carles J. Pierce, Appleton City Mo. Must have been a small town.

Ongoing readers know that my current gig at an animal hospital has set me contemplating things that pets ingest that they should not. (Foreign Object Friday anyone?) The favorite by far seems to be dogs eating ear buds (owner might even find out because they are gently pinging in the pooch), one of the worse is marijuana they pick up from discarded roaches on the street (very bad for animals, please dispose of thoughtfully), and while it is hard to choose most exotic might go to a corn cob which sort of startled me. Shoes, underwear and socks are not safe from your large pup, I’m telling you that right now.

Just for kicks and giggles – this photo from one of my very first posts. Someone named Dally Petit shown in true cat hat splendor.

However on the cat side, this image reminded me very much of a cat we had as a child, Zipper. I have told of his exploits as the swaggering sort of tabby cock-of-the-walk, feline ringleader in our old neighborhood.

I was quite small when for whatever reason one day Mom had to take Zips to the vet. Evidently she was short of a cat carrier and she enlisted me as well. (Later in life she always made sure she had more than enough to move all the cats if necessary, which it was during hurricane Sandy when she moved at least five.) On this occasion she placed Zipper in a rather picturesque antique straw picnic basket and somehow secured the top so he couldn’t bound out.

Zipper was not a cat easily cowed and he sent what we called war whoops and howls from the seat next to her in front (this was an old car and I believe the front seat was all one, not broken into separate seats like they are now), and I was plopped in the back, but of course watching this unfold. Well, Zipper was not to be contained and began systematically eating his way through the side of the basket. (In retrospect, whatever ailed him wasn’t that serious I guess.) It wasn’t long before he was thoroughly stuck, head out but unable to go back in. I can assure you he was a good deal more demonic looking than this puss. Mom, for her part, just kept driving.

I have no idea how we got him home, nor was I there when the vet must have cut him out and most likely asked mom what the heck she was thinking. I wish mom was still around to ask her about that part of the story. This card will always remind me of it however.

Sadly I cannot think of a single family photo that incorporates Zipper – he was a will o’ the wisp of a fellow, always on the move. Somehow he never quite got documented to my knowledge. I suspect it had to do with his aversion to being picked up. A true ally cat, he was very selective about who could touch him and how much. He lives now only in my memory and imagination.

A couple of rather wonderful items wandered in the door this week – a good week at the online auctions. This and that needs to be done before I can share them but some rather wonderful things coming up soon so stay tuned.

Tomasso Catto Singers

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Pam’s :Pictorama Post: Today’s post is an oddball card I picked up at the postcard sale recently. It portrays the never ending saga of cats atop a roof, singing their nightly woes and joyous howls. I have numerous entries in this bonanza of images although a favorite is an unusual panorama photo of cats on a fence (and dogs) shown below for a post that can be found here.

Pams-Pictorama.com collection

This is another of those postcards which is address and date by the sender but no evidence of mailing. On the back it says, For Beatie From Dad. Ramsgate. 24/3/07. Therefore this card is a bit older than maybe I would have guessed.

Cats on rooftops though is also a thing and I wonder about this. Blissfully, I have never found one of my cats, or a stray for that matter, on my roof. That might be because I lived in a very high two story house growing up, but even our more compact house in Jersey does not have rooftop kitties. I assume it is more of a function of houses and row or townhouses close together? How do they get up there and down again? Attics maybe? It must have been a thing because you see them portrayed on roofs as much as fences. Here it is a red tile roof, but definitely a roof nonetheless.

The artist has provided us with some cat diversity in this quartet, two marmalades, a dark gray and a white-ish tabby. Tails stick out handily for the composition on either side and peek up on either side of the Baritone and the Contralto, arguably somewhat strangely placed for the Baritone, sort of in front of him.

These musical felines clutch an advertisement sheet, with claw paws, that looks like it doubles for their music. It promises, Every Night Lessons in Howling by the Tomasso Catto Family Speciality Midnight Concerts/ Three Blind Mice Words by – Prowler Music by – Howler: Sung Nightly by the Mew Quartette. Their fluffy feet peer out below the paper. The orange on the end, Tenor, seems to look the most like a participant in and old-fashioned barbershop quartet. Meow!

(The post for this particularly good Louis Wain image below can be found here.)

Pams-Pictorama.com collection.

I don’t know about my Pictorama readers but I could never rest easy at night if I heard cat fights or howls in my yard. Although I know enough about cats to know the ruckus that can be raised, I admit to being glad that our colonies of strays is largely reduced enough that this is no longer a routine event here in Yorkville or in Fair Haven. A cat meowing outside will drive me nuts looking for it. Far from tossing a shoe at them I would of course be worrying about it. My mother was the same – hence the admission of Stormy and Gus into our family over time. They arrived at the back door with all paws on the ground however.

There were some good times for cats, even domestic ones, that managed to spend the occasional evening out with the fellas or gals as it may be. I have written out our cat Zipper who used to through parties in our garage for the local bunch after raiding a neighbor’s eel pail kept for chum. The price of domestication as I pointed out in a post last week where guest speaker Temple Grandin talked about a dog at the hospital that had eaten and entire shoe. For a quick look at that interesting talk see below. Our town in New Jersey seems to want to strictly restrict cat residents outdoors and the Jersey Five are all indoor cats. Needless to say, up on the 16th floor in Manhattan, so are Cookie and Blackie!

Bon Appetit!

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Four little tabby kittens are playing on this sort of jerry-rigged see saw here. The see saw always seemed a bit fraught with discomfort. You generally ended up falling abruptly to the ground at some point. Ouch! You were somewhat at the mercy of the other person too. Can’t say I have overly fond memories of them as playground equipment goes.

We won’t examine the mechanics of this one too much – it doesn’t withstand study, just a plank on another it would appear. The cat who is high up has that slightly both excited and queasy look that one got suddenly being bounced up that high. Oh my!

The kit in the down position has his back to us, note his tail going off the page, and then we have the two in the middle, one who seems to be officiating in some role. I love that all four cats are tabbies here – it would feel very different if the artist had chosen several different kinds of cats. There is a leafless tree on the left making it feel wintery.

Back of the card – addressed but devoid of postage. You can see it is embossed here.

It is hard to see but the image on this card is embossed which makes it more dimensional. It was produced in Germany, but the writing on it, front and back, is French. I think it is worth noting that although the back is fully addressed there is no stamp – I am seeing this in my current pile of cards. I wonder if these were hand delivered or put in envelopes or what.

It took some careful study, but all of the writing on the front of this card was added by the sender. I scratched my head over Bon appetit! Are we munching on kittens? It is hard to see but each of the kittens has been named as well, Jeanne is the one on the right, standing on hind legs; Marguerite sits on the lower end with her back to us; Genevieve negotiates the middle space and Simone is up top! This writing is so very neat and printed so small! There is something in the lower right which I think was also applied by hand and it is debatable what it says, maybe CLts?

It was sent to Mademoiselle M. Briffant Mikel at an address I cannot make out – without postage as aforementioned. So perhaps this was sent to a young girl and the names are of sisters? Real cats? Wish I knew but it is charming.

From a recent post where the commentary and notes help make the image.

In collecting postcards I have come to realize that the writing on the front often significantly enhances the visual of the card. This is very often true especially on Louis Wain cards I have found where people are alluding to the action in the drawing. (See an example in the post here. Although Wain also tended to add notes in his own hand too. The post for the non-Wain one above can be found here.) Sometimes it is so spot on and seamless that, like this card, it is hard to tell that it wasn’t done by the artist.

Card Kim recently purchased at the Metropolitan Postcard Club show. It’s all about the writing!

There is another, not insignificant, bunch of cards from this period where the entire contents are written on the front and then maybe just addressed on the back. Kim bought this card below for that very reason the other day. (Yes, while I was buying the place out of cat cards he made a few discerning purchases as well. You’ll likely see them over time.) The dealer told him that she has one person who collects these but only when written in a certain language. I am unsure what language this one is in, although it is dated February 26, 1907 on the front (postmarked the 27th on the back) and it was sent here in New York State to Miss Maurtha Schwabe, c/o E. Rumert, Green-Ridge, Haaten-Toland, N.Y.

It is not intuitive but the writing on these cards, sometimes intentionally altering the image and other times just looking for space, enhances rather than devalues them – at least for some of us collectors.

Two Is Company

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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.

Atlantic Highlands

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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.

Moby’s lobster shack on the water.

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.

The theater is evidently still there.

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.

Stand Over Tom and Let Puss Eat

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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.

Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.

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.

He Loves Me!

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: A few weeks ago I posted another postcard by Maurice Boulanger, a Wain wannabe. Boulanger’s cats have their very own maniacal streak although perhaps they lack the intellect of Wain’s calculating cats of the same period. (The earlier post can be found here.) I noted that this card was a bit more saccharine and I’m not sure I actually find it thus today as I look at its nuttiness.

This somewhat tatty card came from the same sale that has supplied Pictorama with numerous posts since March, a big buy that keeps on giving. This was from a set of no less than six – I saw the set in mint condition in an auction, but could only share these three below.

Daisies are clearly the theme here and the fluffy white cat blends a bit with the giant one she is holding. Interesting that there is a green leaf hanging off the daisy stem. The kitties hold paws (albeit a bit awkwardly) and somehow he stretches one long paw arm around her. She has a nice big bow on too. They look at each other with adoring googly eyes. More daisies decorate the border in a very Arts and Crafts pattern of the time and it climbs down the card behind the fellow. Next to the girl kitty it says, He loves me! He loves me not! He loves me!

I myself never actually picked daisies (or therefore did this sort of calculating if someone love me) as a child. Weirdly where I grew up did not seem to produce wild daisies. We had an abundance of dandelions but few daisies. I always think that illustrations like this are more like the giant Gerber ones, more often in bright colors, that need planting and tending but are worth the effort.

Gerber Daisies – maybe I should plant some?

It looks like this card was in an album as the four corners are nibbled away, probably held in by those black paper triangles. For all of that it is a bit bent and something white has spotted the surface if you look carefully – this makes me feel like this card was well loved however.

Written on the back is Paul Starr and Joanna Penna and a $2 notation. (I didn’t pay a lot but more than $2.) It was never mailed so it is undated.

I love the unbridled nuttiness of this card and in fact the entire series. I know little about Mr. Boulanger but clearly he had a charmingly whacky streak and his jolly kits are still hot stuff today.

I Am Enjoying Myself Very Much

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: Today’s card is so painted and embellished that I almost hesitated to say it was a photo but of course it is. There was something about this card when I spotted it recently, the evocative mood of this little girl and kitty, that appealed to me. She is dressed up for her photo and posing nicely for the camera but so is puss. (While not quite enthused he is submitting his beautiful Persian self passively to the pose anyway.)

I grab up Blackie like this not infrequently. Cats don’t especially like to be hugged and held this way, especially while you are not seated and if it isn’t their idea, but he will permit me that. Once in a rare while Cookie is hounding me for attention and I will even pick her up and carry her around for a few minutes. Oddly it quiets her down but to do it of my own accord would be inviting wounds.

A somewhat peevish and demanding Blackie on my lap in front of the tangle of junk on my desk.

Little almost glowing dots of paint have been applied to the trim on the little girl’s dress, like tiny pearls, probably even brighter when the card was new and cleaner. Her hair ribbon is sumptuously velvety holding her abundant curls, a gold bracelet on her arm. An artificial blush to her cheeks and rosiness to her lips have been applied via a paint brush in the same tones as the flowers on her dress. She is not a child having her photo taken for her doting parents, she is hired for this reproduction card.

I’m not sure I really have many other photos in my collection that are like this although they exist in abundance. It relates most closely to the sort of birthday greeting cards of a small child and Felix that I might have,

I cannot blame cats for disliking that loss of autonomy. I am quite sure if I was small enough to be carried about I would resent it as well and I feel a bit guilty every time I turn the bathroom water off while Blackie has commandeered the sink there. He would of course have me turn it on and off all day and I have other plans for my time but it is unfortunate he has been unable to acquire the needed skill.

I always had a strong disliked not being in charge of my own destiny, even in the smallest sense, since I was a child. I was a quiet kid but I remember that I seethed a bit at the casual bouncing to and fro you are subjected to as a small child – left to stay with grandma or required to go somewhere or do something when you would prefer not to. I looked forward to adulthood as the end of that and I was right. Some of that attitude has lingered, although my reluctance to learn to drive a car has bedeviled it a bit – if you cannot drive you are dependent on others, unless of course you live in New York City which I do for the most part.

Back of card.

The back of the card shows it was mailed on June 20, 1912 – although the year is a bit obscured. It was mailed to the Missis Speedays in Keswick, but I cannot see if it says where it was mailed from. In a bold black hand it says, I am enjoying myself very much. I don’t think I will come home when you come back. Peter. We’ll assume it was tongue in cheek but there is something about it that maybe seems a bit serious too. Alas, what were the Misses doing in Keswick and where was Peter? Poor Peter was left out.

Despite what I wrote earlier, Blackie is on my lap and positively insisting on hugs and pets – both handed mind you. It isn’t just what we don’t want, but equally the attention we insist on too. I suppose this holds for people as well as cats.

Just Like Us!

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today is further evidence of last week’s bounty – still just the tip of the iceberg as well. I just showed Kim this card again and his reaction was, I almost like it. Ha! Well, I can see it might not be for everyone, but I do like this one and it makes me laugh.

The art is attributable to postcard artist and contemporary of Wain, Maurice Boulanger. Unlike Wain, Boulanger has not left many auto bio tracks and my nosy friend AI on the Google search doesn’t have much to say, nor has Wikipedia lent a helpful hand. He was very prolific at the dawn of the 20th century and is mostly identified with his often (but not always – he had a sappier more bucolic side) sharply satiric cat postcard images.

Someone has noted Boulanger on the back of this card in pencil; it is otherwise not identified on the card and unlike Wain he did not much seem to sign his work. Perhaps he just did not enjoy that privilege. I gather he did some rather pointed politically satiric cards involving animals as well but is less well known for those.

Boulanger, as evidenced by this card, is a bit less charmingly whacky, boffo and nuanced than Wain; he’s a bit of a one note wonder. His cat wears a nifty straw boater but he has a single thought and it is to pop that ducky into his smiling toothy maw. The duck, not surprisingly absent of humanoid characteristics is played as straight man soon to be snack.

Boulanger has made this cat arm a bit extra long and the hat is also a bit big to account, I guess, for ear coverage on one side. (The hat appears behind the visible ear in a way which I guess has a certain logic.) This leering fellow only has ducky murder and mayhem as a tasty toothsome morsel on his feline brain though and his open-wide cat grin does not convince the viewer otherwise.

Back view of this card.

This is a card which for me benefits from the sender’s addition, Just like us! followed by a slightly illegible signature, Dina or Diana and a surname I cannot read. Just like us! I do wonder what that means – I am not sure I would like to be identified with either of the players in this drama. Gosh – I say what does that mean?

It was sent to Jane Highgate Westerton Villa Shattleston – Glasgow Schottland. There is another word, in German I believe, up at the top I cannot read or translate. I show the back below for any German readers who can help. It was sent on 8.12.04 911 N which to my way of thinking was December of 1911 but maybe someone else can figure that better and let us know. It appears to have been sent from Zehlendorf (outside Berlin) and also it says Wainseebahn.

There is at least one more Boulanger card in this pile, one that runs more to the saccharine than this one. Aside from a New Year’s card which I used to hail the impending arrival of 2020, I think these are the first to join the Pictorama archive. (That New Year’s post can be found here.) More to come on him and his cats it seems – not at all surprising that you’ll find him turning up here at Pictorama.

A Cat Hole

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: As I write today, I continue to try to get past this nasty cold (which Kim is now in the early stages of) which has dogged my holiday this year. In addition, we plan to pack up kit (cat) and caboodle on Saturday and head back to New York. In some odd way therefore, a cat house photo postcard seems like an appropriate post for you all to be reading as we are making our way back on Saturday.

This is an oddball card I ran across right before the holidays and which was delivered to New York before we left for Christmas. I purchased it on eBay which is was posted for sale for just a few sheckles so I was pleased to be the first to claim it. Not to say that I think it has very broad appeal – it could be said to be a card that only I (and a few other cat lovers) might find of interest.

Frankly, it is a bit dirty and tatty – the lower left corner has been torn – and was poorly printed as well, a wide white strip along the left side. For all of that, it is a great composition with the cat house dead center and those vertical trees bringing you eye right to it. There is the big house, back porch in evidence, behind it and a small additional shed that is similar to the house, on the right side. A long pipe chimney comes up from that roof which makes me wonder if it was perhaps a smokehouse. A tree runs up the right side of the card, closing the composition on that side.

This man and woman (proprietor and proprietress?) stand proudly on either side, their hands atop the cat house and his other hand pointing to it. Both look rather pleased with themselves and a dog is in evidence, although the proverbial (housed) cat is not. Some farm equipment is in evidence (pails, some sort of cart and a machine I cannot identify) are scattered about the yard. From the leaflessness of the trees and the coat sported by the woman I assume it is late fall or winter.

Back of card.

It was mailed on December 12, 1912 from Neosho, MO to Elizabeth Hitchcock, East Chatham, Colubmbia Co, New York, Route 1. It says, Helloo Sukey, Say this is a picture of Martha’s dog houses and cat house. I’ve been sick aint well yet, had pnemonia. I about coughed my head off. Merry Xmas and Happy New Year to all. from Grandpa.

Where are these dog houses? Do they produce them for sale?

Right up to Grandpa signature I thought it was a woman writing – don’t know why. Well, with the cat house, the coughing cold, Christmas and New Year’s greeting – I think this is spot on for a post-holiday post today. Back to toys tomorrow!