Late 1800s and early 1900s

Back in the late 1800s and early 1900s, before the days of Chautauqua or Vaudeville, an assortment of show-people performed on theater stages and opera houses throughout the U.S. Various comedy acts, musical groups, magicians, and other entertainers were usually booked for a few nights – some were “one-night stands.”

Besides advance notices in local papers, publicists relied on posters sent to the theaters. The theater managers added the necessary dates and times, and posted them in their lobbies and other locations.

Many Posters

Many of the posters of the period were printed in various sizes using lithography, a printing process invented in the mid-1800s. Most of them measured about 22 x 32 inches.

The better ones were stone-lithographed, a process using eight colors and produced mostly in Boston and other large cities in the east. They were colorful and eye-catching, but printed on pulp paper designed to be thrown away by the time the attraction was shown.

Grand Theater in Keokuk, IA

At the Grand Theater in Keokuk, IA, posters were dutifully displayed before each engagement. When they were no longer needed, a custodian took them down. But instead of throwing them away, the custodian, sensing they might be of value, rolled many of them up in a large bundle and saved them in his garage. The process continued until about 1920.

At some point, Harry B. “Potsy” Andressen, who for several years operated the “Addie May,” an excursion boat out of Hamilton, Illinois, across the Mississippi River from Keokuk, acquired the posters. Before he retired, Andressen gave the collection to his physician and friend, my wife’s father, Dr. B.C. Kappmeyer, who eventually gave them to me.

Newsprint posters

By the time I acquired them, the roll of newsprint posters was in pretty bad shape – a bit on the moldy side and generally falling apart. I managed to salvage a few of the better ones, and had several dry-mounted and framed. Four of the posters were reprinted and sold as a set to gift shops.

Today a few of the framed posters and lithographed copies remain in my collection – reminders of a forgotten era of theater history.

Back in the mid-1940s

Back in the mid-1940s, my wife’s dad, a physician in Hamilton, IL, had acquired a couple of toy metal cars. My wife, Karen, said her dad gave the “sporty one” to one of his patients, a boy about 6. Karen, about the same age, got a sedan.

Although she doesn’t remember many details about playing with the car, she kept it, and it eventually followed us to our present home in a large box with other “old stuff.”

Metal car

The metal car measures 14 ½ inches in length. It’s five inches wide and about 4 ½ inches high. Its body is painted a dull green, which survives in fairly good condition, and it has its original white rubber tires. Several parts are missing, including an open area that appears to have been a battery compartment. The battery may have powered the headlights and a single taillight. A flat-spring motor in the rear of the car would have made it go, but it’s no longer functional.

Old Geography Book

One of the few records of my grandfather’s early life and that of his brothers is an old geography book I re-discovered recently in a cedar chest full of other family history. The book, “Cornell’s Intermediate Geography,” was published in 1879 by Appleton and Company in New York. It was described on the title page as “Forming Part Second of a Systematic Series of School Geographies by S.S. Cornell, Corresponding Member of the American Geographical and Statistical Society.”

The book offers some fascinating looks at the world as it appeared – or was perceived – in 1879.

Beginning with definitions of geographical terms and explanations of the science, the book went on to show illustrations or “scenes” in various locations, combined with appropriate maps.

Typical of the time period, the maps indicate principle waterways, mountain ranges, and other physical features. Manmade features include railroads and towns, reminding the reader that in those pre-automobile days there were no major roads or highways.
To me, one of the more interesting maps was Florida. In 1879, the only railroad in the state was the Yulee Line, from Ferdandina in extreme northeast Florida, to Cedar Key, on the Gulf (the line to Cedar Key was abandoned in 1935, with part of the original right-of-way now serving as a nature trail). The Southern half of the state had virtually no towns — Miami wouldn’t be incorporated until 1896. For many years, other attractions in the state were accessible mainly by steamboat, and later by short-line railroads.

The Midwest was similarly bare, with only a few major towns. Kansas City was barely legible. There was no Branson, but Hartville and Forsyth were shown. Kansas City’s population, appearing in a listing near the back to the book, was given as 32,736, and could barely be seen on the map. In the upper part of the state, there were no towns north of Hannibal. Keokuk, IA, long important as a steamboat and railway terminal, was shown prominently. In Kansas, the area west of Topeka was mostly devoid of towns. Wichita wasn’t mentioned: although incorporated in 1870, it was little more than a trading post when the book was printed.

 

Bored Youngster

When I was a youngster, we would occasionally spend Sundays with my dad’s stepmother and his two sisters in Hamilton, IL, across the river from Keokuk, IA. I remember it was a bit boring for a pre-school-age kid, as there were no other children around. There were no toys, but I could keep busy looking at their collection of magazines – mostly Life and Look, as I recall.

Now and then, my aunts would bring out a jigsaw puzzle, one of their entertainments in those pre-TV years. The puzzles caught my four-year-old eye, as my elders magically made colorful pictures appear from a pile of various-shaped pieces. The one I recall was a reproduction of an old painting, “Adoption of Flag of the U.S.A.,” according to a handwritten note on the cover of the box. Made by the Tuco Workshops, my aunts’ puzzle had a 1933 copyright.

Jigsaw puzzle craze

According to antique writer Harry Rinker, Tuco was a product name of the Upson Company in Lockport, NY, a maker of 3/16 inch wallboard. When the Great Depression hit, the company decided to take advantage of the jigsaw puzzle craze in the early 1930s and used its wallboard to make inexpensive puzzles that it sold through Kresge stores for 69 cents each. The puzzles were cut in wavy horizontal and vertical lines, meaning there were no interlocking tabs, and each piece was different.

My family’s “Adoption of the Flag” puzzle was well-used by the time I came on the scene. Two pieces had been lost, and one of my aunts had carefully recreated them, coloring in the missing scenes so carefully that the substitution was barely noticeable.

When my parents died and I acquired their things, I found that I was the owner of the old puzzle I had seen as a four-year-old. I put it in a closet and forgot about it for more than three decades, but recently I decided to try my hand at putting it together.

It was a challenge. Not only are all the pieces different, they don’t interlock, unlike modern puzzles. Many of the pieces have straight lines but aren’t necessarily border pieces, which added to the challenge. Worst of all, there was no picture to go by. I tried looking up examples of old Tuco puzzles, and found quite a few, but not the one that matched mine. A search for the painting, “Adoption of the Flag of the U.S.A.” yielded several versions, but none matched the image in my puzzle. (I later found a copy of it on WorthPoint.com.)