Weekend Finds 2: 1880's Masonic Poster

Good morning!

Well, I survived going to the dentist this morning, so I guess it's time to settle down in my cubicle and tell you the tale of how YET ANOTHER bizarre item has made its way into my possession. Don't worry, I haven't backslid on my clutter stance-- I have a round up of items ready and rarin' to go back to Goodwill where they belong as we speak. But when I went to an amazing sale out near Cornelia Fort last weekend on the way out of town, there was no way I could pass up this...whatever it may be:

This doesn't show the size very well, but imagine this is about the width and length of the small coffee table atop which I took this photo... maybe around average poster size, 24 by 26? It's a masonic....poster? Diploma? It was sitting on a couch in this house with AMAZING furniture but very little smalls that interested me, with "$1" written on a piece of masking tape stuck to the back. A buck! How could I refuse? The color is much less yellow and the water stains less apparent in real life, but I assure you, the images are no less mystical, Victorian, and after my own heart. Take, for example, this eye, possibly the Lord's own eye, looking down from heaven upon the masonic lands:

In another quadrant, Noah's ark or possibly just...someone else's ark rocks along the shore under the sheltering arm of a rainbow. Don't the water stains make this particular tableau look ominous?

Throughout the piece, various Biblical and I guess fraternal order scenes are acted out along spaces where you can ink in when you reached such and such level of brotherhood. At the very bottom, a 1887 (!!) copyright bears the name "Pettibone Mfg. Co., Cincinnati", which also lists itself as a maker of fraternal order ceremonial items. While the pictures are in poorer condition, this website features a better condition poster from the same time along with a reprint made in 1917 (still none too young in terms of vintage). I kind of prefer my weirdly messed up version as it's a tad bit spookier/atmospheric, but youknowhowweareaboutthesethings. That post, under "Masonic Museum", mentions that "[t]his is a certificate that would have been filled out and presented to a new Master Mason." From what I can understand on this website, you can go into three separate types of masonic membership-- "entered apprentice", "fellowcraft" or "master mason". 

The "From Darkness to Light" inscription is also explained on the aforementioned site, as follows:

The candidate enters the Lodge of the Master Mason in darkness, for he has not witnessed the Light at this Degree before.  But the difference of this entrance from that of the others is that he is now in a state of equilibrium and is prepared to walk on sacred ground.  He becomes fully committed to the Fraternity and completely puts his faith on the Three Great Lights.

My dad's dad was a mason, as well as Matthew's dad's dad...I even know three guys my own age who are active Masons, and yet I have to say I don't understand much about the secret ceremonies and rituals of the fraternal organization. I really should take advantage of one of those open houses they do yearly at the Grand Masonic Temple in Nashville...it's literally down the street from the library, and from what I hear, they have all these amazing historical pieces and ceremonial costumes out for us non-initiates to see once a year.

I hope I would see more things like this!

Here's the meat of the poster; notice the ornate 1880's lettering's font, that which the guy in the modern package design book was complaining about last week (I like the fanciness of it, what can I say):

A large image from the same...hello, mountain goat:

Yes, there's a funeral in the background. I guess you're supposed to keep this even after your Mason relative has passed away, as a record of his Masonic life? Note the marker on the memorial's base: "Called from Labor":

More biblical scenes, I think...I'm again, not very up on my religious texts, unfortunately:

A pretty great quote from Exodus, here, "I am that I am", followed by some closeups from the same scene:

Anyway, I know I'm not a Mason so I shouldn't have these kinds of Masonic things laying around the house, but how could I resist?! I hope to find a frame for it and put it in a place of pride in my den, with all the other 1880's portraits and skeleton marionettes and everything else that catches my wicked little eye.

So! What do you think? Have you seen anything like this before out in the wild or in your own family's collection? Know any masons who can decode the secrets of this poster? Aren't you fascinated, as I am, by the beautiful iconography and strange subjects of this poster, not to mention the fact that it's BRIMMING with symbolism I may or may not completely get?

You can see more Masonic themed posters here ( in reprinted form), but I'm warning you-- it's addictive poring over all the individual figures on these over-the-top ceremonial documents. Have at, have fun!

I gotta get back to work, but I will talk to you tomorrow! Keep a good thought for my aching teeth, and I'll see you then. Take care.

Weekend Finds: The Lamp of My Dreams (1940's Tv Lamp)

Good morning!

How was your weekend? I went up on a little two-day getaway to Louisville and poked around in the antique stores and peddler's marts with my extremely indulgent husband ("If you see any crazy quilts laying around, sing out, brother," would be my last words to my beloved as I would scurry off into the darkness of some junk store's far corners). While having a room with a hot tub in it and coming across a COPS marathon on cable tv were the highlights, I would be lying if I didn't say I was SO EXCITED to bring home some loot of vintage extraction from far off hunting grounds in the Bluegrass state. What I love the most? Oh, just this lamp. I hope you're not tired of hearing about junk I drag into my house, because you know I'm not tired of telling you about it!

Me, this morning, admiring away. Note the new Sisters (1973)  poster in the background, added bonus!

As I sing a paen of love to my lamp, along the lines of and with apologies to Billie Holiday's "The Man I Love"... HOW COULD I LOVE A LAMP MORE. We were in the basement of an antique mall in Louisville proper when I saw this lamp base sitting all on its lonesome in a sparsely populated booth. There were some McCoy vases on a shelf, a couple pieces of Fiestaware, and this GREAT BIG HUNK OF GORGEOUS perched enchantingly on top of a chest of drawers. I might have actually done a little gasp of delight. Ya gotta act cool when you're out negotiating deals. I could not act cool.

Is it not beautiful? Does it not look like something Billy Haines would use to decorate Marlene Dietrich's 1940's ultra glamorous pied à terre with? At fifty dollars, it was way the frank more than I usually shell out for a trinket or bauble around the house...my dream price on this would have been about half that. Matthew rationalized that I would only end up spending that amount in smaller increments over the course of our trip to fill the lamp shaped hole in my heart...and danged if I didn't agree with him.

Now, when I found the lamp, it only had the pole and lighting element, with some kind of huge, round, outdoor light bulb. Like Blanche du Bois, I can't stand a naked bulb-- as you may remember from earlier posts, I hoard both whipstitch lamp shades and vintage ceramic diffusers for the very purpose of stylishly hiding unsightly, shade-less bulbs from public view. I think this shade, which I originally used on a harlequin base I also found in Louisville, goes great with the whole show-stopping vibe of the ibex base. Do you love how dramatic the black coloring of the animal's figure is against the subtle turquoises and purplish midnight blue of the long planter type thing?

Did you know that's the kind of animal featured here? I had to google "animals with curved horns" before I came across that specific descriptor. While the sleekness of the art deco design and the legs-for-days of this particular figure may look more like a deer, in real life, an ibex is a kind of mountain goat. You learn something every day! You can see more beautiful examples of the creatures in art and decoration via this Pinterest search. 

Ok, the weirdest part of this lamp's story-- when I got home, I searched high and low online for another of these pieces, to see if I'd done well or ok or kind of bad by shelling out half a C note for this little piece of loveliness:

YES! SCORE! While I know the internet is full of pie in the sky prices, I can't tell you what a relief it is to my spendthrifty little heart to find out at least there aren't a million of these out there, and at least I didn't get hornswoggled in the deal (see the link here). What's even more interesting than the price, however, is that my lamp was rewired and modified by someone at some point to change it from tv lamp (which is what this guy is, with a small space in the back along the planter-esque space for a bulb to illuminate the figure from behind) to a full on lamp-lamp. When I looked it over, there's some kind of fixative in the well where the single bulb would have been (plaster of Paris? Something semi-solid) from which the lamp's post extends. Weird, huh? I love the idea of some guy whose wife wanted a new lamp in the fifties going "Whaddya want a new lamp for? This one suits me just fine!" "Yes, but it's not a proper LAMP lamp, it's just a tv lamp!" "We'll see about THAT!"

So! Enough gushing for one day, suffice it to say that I am in love. How about you? Did you find anything good out at the sales this weekend? I have more loot, but I'll have to save it until tomorrow! I gotta go grab some lunch and then get back to the business of providing quality phone reference to all you library patrons out there in the Nashville area. Orrrrr at least the best I can do on a bellyful of grape leaves. :)

Have a great Monday! I'll see you back here tomorrow! Til then.

Photo Friday Rerun: Mongomery Clift Edition

Hi guys! 

I have an action packed weekend, starting with an estate sale that starts at the gruesome hour of 8 AM-- that's right, I'm dragging my weary bones out of bed on a NON-WORK day to go comb over treasures of a mid century sort. However! How could I leave you hanging for the weekend? This is one of the handsomest guys STILL in the whole of my photo collection. So if you missed it the first time, or would like to take a walk back down memory lane with this heartthrob, here's your chance to see my GI dream boat. This post originally appeared on She Was a Bird November 2, 2012.

Anyway, wish me luck out in the wild world! Have a fabulous Friday, and I'll see you guys on Monday! Take care. Til then.  -Lisa

 Sorry I'm late, folks! Estate sales having taken longer than I thought they would, I only have a minute before I dash off to make lunch, but I wanted to show you guys what I grabbed on at a sale in East Nashville. Caution, ladies...this one's a scorcher:

I was going through a box of pictures in the upstairs bedroom of a little house in Lockeland Springs when I noticed about a quarter of the photographs inside were from WWII-- I quickly sorted through and grabbed any that caught my eye. At 25 cents apiece, you really can't make a bad choice. When I got home and started scanning, I realized four of them were of the same, drop-dead gorgeous enlisted man. DOES HE NOT LOOK EXACTLY LIKE MONTGOMERY CLIFT? If Montgomery Clift and Don Draper had a third brother, here we go, folks. Sadly enough, none of his pictures were labelled, but who needs background info when you have a face like THIS:

 Look at his cool leather jacket and knit vest over shirt and tie! I've asked you before, but I'll ask you again--why don't men dress like this anymore? Even the ones that do tend to pull it off in this ironic, not-really-getting-the-point, looks like it came from a bargain bin way...this guy looks like he's about to seduce his leading lady before making a really cool movie about early aviation for Warner Brothers' in the thirties'. I swoon, and swoon; revive myself and then swoon again.

Oh, but he probably doesn't even look that spectacular in full dress uniform, I mean, that would be ridiculous, right?

AAAAAAH:

I think I'm still a little dizzy from the first two, and here's the man himself. Relatively tall (maybe 5'10''?) for the time and just as handsome and imposing as in his close ups. Look at that jaw and those cheekbones! I love the barracks in the background and the long shadow he's casting against the background.

This was the first one I found and the most Monty Clift of the bunch. Ugh. Just like a picture. Freakishly handsome. I wonder what his children and grandchildren looked like! Or how pretty the girl he married must have been. It's always such a wistful feeling I get as a vintage photograph collection to know that what I have is what there is, or all that there is, or all that I'm going to get to see, at any rate. Still. I'm so hanging these in a place of prominence in my house.

What'd you think of my WWII boyfriend? Do you have any heartbreakin' soldier pictures in your collection? What do you look for when you first start rifling through boxes of other-people's-pictures?

Have a great weekend, and I'll see you right back here on Monday! Good luck at the sales!

Shelf Life (Modern Package Design 1920-1945, by Jerry Jankowski)

Good morning!

How's tricks? The wheels of progress roll on at my workplace-- we're in the midst of renovation, and walls are comin' a tumblin' down! As the shelving is disassembled in the third floor area where I'm stationed at the library, we worker bees have been shifting large ranges of books from old shelving to new shelving. The best part of physically moving these books is not the minor, Towanda-like endorphin rush one gets from slinging heavy hardbacks, but the thrill of finding hidden gold amongst Dewey decimal numbers you haven't necessarily looked over in an exhaustive manner. Example? I hardly ever (never) look at the marketing section (680's), excepting a few Mad Men/David Ogilvy type books...and if I hadn't been shifting books like Doing Business on the World Wide Web (Marni Patterson, copyright 1997), I would have never found THIS book, Shelf Life: Modern Package Design 1920-1945. What a keeper!

Published in 1992, author Jerry Jankowski opens his book on commercial packaging of the 1920's, '30's and '40's with a pre-history of the modern package design's lineage. The earliest example of "packaging" came from a German papermaker named Andreas Bernhart in the 1550's, who wrapped Bernhart reams in a distinctive shield pattern (you can see the label reproduced in this Google books entry on page 28). Various makers made their marks in the ensuing decades, but it was not until almost three centuries later, with the machine age's technological advances, that packaging really made its debut as a force in advertising. In the mid 19th century, chromolithography, "the printing from stones of up to twelve different colors by using dots and solid areas", and other improved printing techniques made mass-produced advertising and packaging possible. Jankowski comes down hard on the Victorian advertising world's penchant for "clutter and fussiness" in design--Grotesque and Egyptian font used indiscriminately with "curlicues, floral patterns and Greek fretting" led to a ongepotchket amalgamations of styles, against which the 1920's art deco school of sleek lines and minimalism could be seen as a direct revolt. Said Modernist designs came into vogue after WWI. While early examples still bore the mark of an Art Nouveau influence (romantic, feminine, floral scenes), by 1920, Cubist-inspired sparsity of design came center stage.

Speaking of Cubist design, that's what made me interested in the cover in the first place, this handsome little gent:

A mid 30's talcum powder bottle, the well heeled monsieur above and on the cover was made for The House of Men, Inc. His stopper-head is made of Vinylite, an early Bakelite plastic, and his broad trunk of glass. Can you imagine proudly setting this on your mister's chest of drawers in the thirties', pleased as punch to have something he can use and something that's cheekily whimsical to boot? I tried to look this up on Etsy and Ebay, but only this sold listing from August of last year popped up. Still! Good to know they're still out there, somewhere!!

The book divides itself into a curated look at these two decades of stylish packaging by type-of-product: 

• Cosmetics and Grooming Products
• Food and Beverage
• Healthy Care Products
• Cigarettes and Smoking Accessories
• Automotive Care Products
• Home and Office Products
• Games, Puzzles, and Art Supplies

Something about the neat categorization of each of these collectibles appeals to my sense of order. In direct opposition of that, I've chosen my favorite cans and flasks and tins willy nilly from all over the book. Why not take a (disordered) look at what looked best to me? Excuse the glare in some of these photographs-- in some cases, the shiny pages got the better of me in trying to take snaps with my spy camera.

This heavily muscled, Brylcreamed haired George O'Brien type that graces the label of the Red Giant Oil tin on p 82 reminds me of Soviet propaganda posters, iconography that would also be heavily steeped in Art Deco simplicity. Look at him protectively hulking over your engine, promising to keep it not only safe from outside harm, but in good working order. There's an antique mall in Goodletsville, Rare Bird, that has a whole front counter of these deadstock type cans and packages, I want to go next time and see if any of these are represented on their shelves!

Who's been reading my dream journal?! I would LOVE to play "an elusive, fascinating game" with a pair of charismatic robots! The caption clues us in that the robots on the cover have less to do with the futuristic styling of the game (which is just a peg board with pegs to place, Chinese Checker style, in a strategic pattern that would outwit your human or robot counterpart) than the faddish love of sci-fi stylings. This box should have a caveat of "Robots not included" or "Bring your own robot opponent" (p 111).

The last time I got a package of nails for a picture hanging project, they DARN SURE didn't pack as much graphic punch in their plastic shell casings as this little Altoids-box like nail box from Dart. (p. 102). Have you thought about how Altoids tins (and maybe some other kinds of novelty mints) are the only packages that come in this kind of "you could use it for anything" packaging? I mean, technically, you can reuse your box of Tide powder detergent, but it's cardboard, and it's not much worth keeping...if you had five or six of these, you could use them for anything from pill box to an ID case to...the little tinker-junkman in my heart's heart is thinking up all kinds of uses for this box.

Probably my absolute favorite piece of marketing, excepting Mr. Talcum Powder, is this crazy, CRAZY can for "a French cereal product" called Diase. Notice that the bulky character in chiaroscuro there is guzzling from what looks like a gas pump. The French on the can reads "The best gasoline for the human motor". TOP THAT, AD EXECS OF TODAY. I am fascinated (p. 55).

I specifically left out examples of this can on the two page spread that described what was in the can, because it seemed like an unlikely candidate to me! These beautiful little tins, which look exactly like old compacts to me, are actually containers for.....((drum roll)).....typewriter ribbons! Would you believe? (p. 99) Seriously, these are way better than some of the face powder tins earlier in the book.

Between my fondness for the two little birds that chatter daily on the ledge just outside my workroom's large, Church-and-Seventh facing windows, and my life-changing discovery of the twitter feed @probirdrights (possibly the purest comedy gold I have ever read, with truly life affirming tweets like "I'm my own in charge" and "I think a good movie cinema would be me"), I had to include this pretty little bird on a tobacco tin. You tell 'em, bird! Give 'em heck! (p. 73).

I love the gold, mint green, black and white color scheme of this bath powder tin. I have two of my own sitting in the powder room at my house-- one Lanvin dusting powder package from a yard sale that looks like this, and one baby powder tin my friend Xingxia brought back from a trip to a relative's house in China sometime during high school ("This looked old, so I got it for you--my grandma made me buy her a new one," she laconically explained upon bringing it back...it's from the fifties' or sixties' and one of my best treasures!!). I would love to add this one to my collection...c'est si chic! (p. 21)

Last but not least, these tall talc powder bottles from the twenties (p. 22). Again, the black background with a colorful foreground is so elegant-- unlike my nondescript Cetaphil cleanser or the gummy toothpaste tube that I always try and hide in the closet before guests come over, I would have no problem displaying these bottles in a place of pride in the ladies' room.

So! I'm about to release this book back into the wild-- if any of you in Nashville are interested, it's here in your public library! :) Have you seen any great commercial packaging that really caught your eye in antique or junking adventures lately? Which of these packages would you most like to come across at the Goodwill for 99 cents? Read any good books about vintage or antique items lately? Let's talk!

That's all for today, but I will see you back here tomorrow with bells on for Photo Friday. Have a great Thursday! Til then.

Pre-Code and Wonderful (Warner Instant Archive Picks)

Good morning!

The other day, as we were going over monthly expenses (like the tiny little business I consider our husband-and-wife domestic team to be), I realized we have three, count 'em, THREE online movie subscriptions. I'm thinking about dropping Netflix and Hulu, but nothing, neither penury nor penny-pinching nor parsimony, will get between me and my Warner Instant Archive! I'd keep it above the others, and here's why. I think about how before, I would either spending twenty bucks a pop for the every-once-and-awhile purchase of a MUST SEE twenties' or thirties' movie, or else eating my heart out that I would never see Marion Davies in whatever because I couldn't justify dropping $25 on a sixty minute movie I don't even know if I'll like. However! For the low, low price of $9.99 a month, I can glut my little eyeballs in as much pre 1950 cinema as time will allow! This weekend, Matthew had to work and I pulled up a chair to the old Roku, kicking and wheezing for not being a Roku 3 and trying to work in spite of itself, and (after some cussing and online re-registering of channels) managed to squeeze in three movies. Three! They're all about an hour apiece, but gee, did those hours buoy my little spirits right back up to where I needed them to be (after a hard work week).

Wanna see what I saw? I'll give you the goods on what I watched this weekend. What do all three share in common? A connection to Loretta Young, a pre-code Hollywood release date, and my hearty recommendation! Take a look:

1) They Call It Sin (1932, 66 minutes)

• The synopsis: A stunning 19 year old Loretta Young stars as a naïve church organist in Kansas. Marion Cullen's (Young) world is turned upside down when she has an affair with a visiting--married--businessman. The tryst leads her to New York City where she gets a job with a theatrical producer who immediately sets his sights on her as a prize. Now, can she survive his advances and the seedy city closing in around her, or will she became a victim to desires?

• The skinny: I don't know that the "tryst" of the synopsis necessarily ever happened there...Loretta Young and David Manners do stay out in his car until really late, but as much as I was expecting him to intimate there was some kind of pre-code devilment, I honestly didn't get that from the scene. And he was only engaged, not married, at that point! Did the synopsis writer watch the movie? With a brisk 66 minute run time, the story moves along pretty speedily up until the third act, where there's a possible murder to solve and brave so-called sacrifices to be made in the name of propriety. Oh, the bellyaching for what was up to then a very modern, enjoyable story line. "We couldn't build our happiness on someone else's...unhappiness," Young bleats in one of the last scenes, selflessly thinking of David's selfless wife, who has offered to give un-selfless David a divorce. Outmartyring one another in thirties' pictures is never much fun, especially in this just-on-the-cusp-of-code era, and it's the only unpleasant-to-watch exchange in the whole movie. From the moment you see her bedecked in yards, and YARDS, of white organza, complete with a wide brimmed matching hat, at the organ in the aforementioned Kansas church, you can't take your eyes off Loretta Young. She is easily one of the prettiest 1930's actresses on the scene, with none of that straight-back, high collar stiffness that put me off her acting in the forties' and fifties'... in this and the next movie I saw her in, I couldn't believe how natural her acting was. What happened, Loretta? I can't stand you in The Bishop's Wife, and that's WITH Cary Grant to look at! Also, this movie is very "unsinful" save one scene of the camera lingering lasciviously on Young in a diaphanous step-in chemise as she changes for work. There's an implied "kept" relationship with the producer guy, but even that is light on the dirty laundry. In sum: the title is way more scandalous than the actual plot.
• What (else) surprised me: UNA MERKEL! She plays an adorable second-banana to Loretta Young as the Kentucky-drawling, aptly named Dixie Dare, and about steals any scene she's in. Cartwheels in this adorable sailor-themed dance outfit she has for one rehearsal as a chorus girl? A living Kewpie doll! I kept hoping there was some reason Loretta Young's roommate would have reason to be in the scene and additionally kind of want to be her. Also, how completely non-essential to the plot poor George Brent is, though I love him in other, same-era movies. I found myself rooting for snobby theatrical producer Louis Calhern at one point just out of lack of interest in the other two male characters.
• Rating: **** out of ***** fashion plate outfits that Loretta Young wears (which, consequently, is almost the ratio of dresses she wears that I too would like to wear). 

2) Taxi! (1932, 68 minutes)

• The synopsis: A keystone in James Cagney's rise to stardom, Taxi stars the gritty actor as a hardened New York City cab driver. As a corporate interest attempts to eliminate all independent cabbies in the city, Cagney recruits a gang to stand up to them - violently. Directed by Roy Del Ruth, several of the gunfight sequences in the film used live machine-gun bullets. Taxi is also the first film in which Cagney danced and where he spoke his famous line, "You dirty rat!"

• The skinny: James Cagney in the thirties'...other than his hotheaded temper, that man is possibly my dreamiest dream crush. I know! What about Clark Gable, Cary Grant, or any of those other tall drinks of water onscreen at the time? Between his electric charisma, machine gun dialogue delivery, diminutive but neat frame, and smooth as silk dance moves...I'm telling you, this is my kind of guy. He opens up the movie surprising a fellow Irish policeman by talking Yiddish to a monolingual gent from the old country ("What part of Ireland are you from, anyway?" the befuddled cop asks...did you know Cagney could speak Yiddish in real life from his childhood in the Lower East Side of New York?), and then pummeling two guys from "the corportation" who try to horn in on his taxi business by blocking him in to a sidestreet space. You tell it to 'em, Jimmy! Scrap away! While there is about a ten minute scene with a "revenge and retribution" angle and Cagney trying to shoot up a closet where he thinks the guy who killed his brother is hiding, this is emphatically not a gangster picture at all. Cagney tries to organize the independent taxi cab drivers in New York against the syndicate, but spends way more time trying to win Loretta Young's heart (and keep it!). I spend a lot of time in this movie sighing a lovesick sigh. It's a good thing I married a scrappy, devilishly charismatic, good-at-dancing, tiny little guy in real life, or I'd be more heartbroken over it! ;)
• What surprised me: How "non-gritty" this movie is. You would think from the synopsis that you're in for one of Cagney's hardboiled performances, when what really makes this movie shine is its "everyday Joe" feeling. When Young and Cagney go on a double date with another couple to the movies, the scenes swing back and forth from the meta-movie drama and the in-the-theater reality. You can really see the contrast between the mannered movie folk on the screen ("I love you, I dare say!" type characters dripping with glamour) with the working class working stiffs in the audience 
• Rating: ***** out of ***** tiny James Cagney suits (***** out of ***** love beams). 

3) Other Men's Women (1931, 70 minutes):

• The synopsis: William Wellman directs this frank pre-Code drama about two locomotive men caught up in a turbulent love triangle. Mary Astor plays the lady in question – married to one man (Regis Toomey) but in love with his pal (Grant Withers). Sparkling with wit, romance and Wellman’s already apparent macho elan, two supporting players capture the eye, and nearly the show – James Cagney and Joan Blondell.

• The skinny: The opening scenes on the train, with the men nonchalantly running down the skinny walkway across the tops of cars as they hurtle forward, reminded me of some of Wellman's other silent work in that it is an immediately breathtaking visual statement. Dude could frame a shot, and in this top notch transfer, the opening reel is as crisp and clear as anything you could want today. Dreamboat James Cagney, for his own part, actually does a little jig on top of the moving train! The love triangle is way less turbulent than you think, and the dialogue between Mary Astor and Grant Wither plods towards its eventual climactic conclusion ("Oh no! We love each other! When did we fall in love?!") What's much more interesting is, as the synopsis hints, the real-deal performances by Cagney and Blondell. Their fresh-as-paint interpretations of two up-from-under spitfires make you wish the whole movie was about them. I don't know how Mary Astor got so much better at acting in talkies in such a short amount of time, but if counts any, she's GREAT in The Maltese Falcon, around ten years later. Also, her 1920's Clara Bow/Janet Gaynor esque eyebrows have calmed down considerably by the forties', greatly to the benefit of that tragically beautiful face. I quit watching around the time (spoiler alert) Regis Toomey went blind...I need to pick it back up and see if Withers redeems himself by saving his blind pal from the impending flood--the city dam's been threatening to break for days in the railroad town. See, that sounds WAY exciting as I type it, but was tough-going in terms of actual movie watching. I will, however, persevere.
• What surprised me: I didn't realize, as I picked this out of the pre-code bunch, that this movie has two things in common with Taxi!-- one, James Cagney being (delightful) in it; two, star Grant Withers was actually briefly married to Loretta Young! He was twenty six to her seventeen when they eloped after meeting on the set of the (ironically titled) Too Young to Marry-- the union was annulled the next year.
• Rating: *** out of ***** guys that work on trains  (* out of *** of Loretta Young's ex-husbands)

So! What do you think about these movies? Which one looks the most intriguing to you? Seen any good black and white pictures lately? What really jumps out of a synopsis to make you want (or not want) to watch a movie? Let's talk!

That's all for today, but I will be back here tomorrow with more vintage rants and ramblings. Have a great Wednesday! I'll talk to you tomorrow.

Weekend Finds: Only a Little Belated! (Goodwill a palooza)

Good morning!

As promised, I did manage to get all my weekend finds photographed and ready for you today. OH. MY GOODNESS. I bought way too much stuff on Saturday. 

I picked up my dad and we decided to do the gauntlet of Goodwills down Gallatin Road (trip G, for those in the know...I'm kidding, I just like alliterative phrases). This means the Gallatin Goodwill, the Indian Lake Goodwill, the New Shackle Island Goodwill, and the Rivergate Goodwill. We could have kept going and hit the East Nashville Goodwill, but we were overspent both financially and physically at that point, and threw in the towel.

Wanna see what we got? You know you do!

Weirdly enough, this is a) one of my favorite things I bought and b) one of the things I struggled with whether or not to buy! It's a painting, about the size of a piece of copier paper, in a heavy wood frame, of what looks like someone's long-ago lakeside house. Check out the boat dock and the screened in porch on the 1910's? 1920's? looking homestead. The picture is signed "P.E. Hunt" and has this masking tape provenance on the back of the frame:

Walter! What are you doing getting rid of your "memento from Grandmother Eddy-Stout's"?! This picture reminds me of the two or three tiny, similar canvases my grandma's father, a Cape Cod fisherman in the thirties' and forties', did of local lighthouses in his old age. When you think about whoever painted this piece being an amateur, it's really heads and shoulders above a lot of the bizarre things I see in the Goodwill pictures bin! What kept me on the fence about buying it? Its $6.99 price tag. "That's a lot for a little picture like this!" I said to my dad. "Do you think it's reasonable?" He did, and home it went with me, where it goes JUST PERFECTLY in my green room den/computer room. I'll have to show you what I've done with that space sometime this week or next, I've finally just given in to my TGIFriday's aesthetic of "HANG EVERYTHING ON THE WALL", but I think it works!

This 1920's or 30's clipping of birds in its chipped-to-pieces frame was appealing to me for the very reason that it was probably dug out of someone's attic after years of disuse...doesn't the weirdness of the bird subject and the faded quality of the print make it something else?

I'm am really in a fashion rut for late forties' things right now, and this embroidered-collar dress might have looked very nineties' with its original, straight-shift under-piece, but as that was missing when I found it at the Gallatin Goodwill, I had no compunction about pairing it with a low cut, flared skirt dress yesterday to have this kind of almost Turkish robes, 1920's marketplace thing going on. Plus, this kind of embellishment reminds me of things I've been drooling over in the bound volume of 1947 Harper's Bazaar parked at my desk, so it was buy, buy, buy.

This distressed Catholic statuette of Jesus, sacred heart and all, was sitting in the housewares section of the Indian Lake (Hendersonville) Goodwill, and I about died. $2.99 folks. AND. ANNND: One, the gorgeous, fifties' paint on Him, in beautiful peach, red, turquoise, and gold; two, the way said paint is rubbed off around His poor nose and forehead; three, the fact that it's an almost antique Catholic statue here in the middle of the predominantly Protestant Bible belt, in a GOODWILL, where I can buy it. Three cheers!  Isn't it dreamy? I don't usually buy religious items (see: recent purchase of Dali's interpretation of the Last Supper as another exception), but this was just too good to pass up.

Here's another example of "I shouldn't buy it, it's too expensive" from me. I picked up this pan in the same Indian Lake Goodwill, and went "GahLEE this thing is heavy!" (because at times, I sound like I am blood related to Gomer Pyle). I actually brought it over to my dad to show him how heavy it was, as he perused the t-shirts for school colors. "That thing IS heavy!" he agreed, hefting its weight. "We're talking a PROFESSIONAL. SKILLET. HERE! Man!" Yes, both of us come from the school of "if it is heavy, it is probably of great value." And the Goodwill pricing people agreed, as this pan was $8.99 to the other pans four to five dollar range. Still, I stuck to my intuition (and my need of a heavier duty pan to cook the millions of vegetables this diet has me cooking on a daily basis) and pulled the trigger on it.

What sold me, other than the weight? The crazy cute midcentury illustrations of all the sorts of things I could cook in this pan, naturally. When I got home, I looked up the  words "Markley" and "Descoware" (the only markings other than adorable abstract sheep and lobsters), to find that this was a pretty top of the line pan in its 1950's-era day. The Markley design in particular seems to be collectible (duh, which is why I wanted to collect it), and right now there's a smaller skillet from the line on ebay for $34.99, another for $49.98. Things get more expensive on Etsy, as they are wont to do-- here's a saucepan for $69.99 and a dutch oven (a VERY CUTE dutch oven, omg) for $80.00. So my nine dollar purchase is vindicated! Also, the clerk who checked us out remarked encore une fois upon the heft of the skillet. "Don't go hurting anybody with this thing! This is like a self defense weapon." Way to take it to a dark place. But seriously! This pan is serious!

This shirt was at the New Shackle Island Road Goodwill, and is a rare sight to see nowadays. I was complaining on the drive over about how, when I was in high school, I could buy my own weight in polyester print dresses and shirts and skirts at any given second hand store. The hardest thing was finding one that wasn't somebody's-zepplinesque-grandmother's size or the tiny bird size of other people's grandmothers. Was there no in between for an average sized girl of above average interest in polyester day wear? Now, however, it's IM.FREAKIN.POSSIBLE to find crazy seventies' prints, I guess because they're the first thing snapped up by resellers? Or just because everyone-who-would-have-cleaned-out-their-seventies'-wardrobe-from-the-attic has already done it? My dad had similar woes to share about the old Friedman's locations (I think there used to be three altogether, including Nolensville Road and a Gallatin Road location-- now there's just the original one on 21st ). While he still took us religiously around to those Nashville army surplus stores in the summer, picking for goodies in huge bins that smelled of oil and moth balls, he said when he was a teenager, the place was chock FULL of WWII stuff in addition to all the Vietnam era surplus. "I used to see buckets, I mean buckets, of mess containers and shovels and all kinds of stuff...I saw a shovel in its case at the flea market last week, you know what they wanted for it? SIXTY. DOLLARS. It still had a clod of dirt on it from when somebody used it on a boy scout trip or something in the sixties' or the seventies', and they wanted SIXTY. DOLLARS. for it. Can you believe that!" I can, Pappy! The changing tides of old stuff is hard for us old stuff collectors.

Look how crazy the print is though. A tree, in Greece, surrounded by Victorian sightseers. And the same replicated on the back! Mr. Fine of Dallas, you have outdone yourself, truly.

I lunged for a "Country Sophisticate" jacket in an eye popping teal- and-purple-flowers print in the blazers section, which turned out to be zoot-suit-sized too big, but I was rewarded in my efforts with this small sized sequin jacket. Oh! The sequins!  It's lovely on, too-- in my heart of hearts, when I'm not dressed like Joan Crawford circa 1946, I would appreciate being dressed like her circa 1968...that regal, older-lady-with-panache kind of over the topness that keeps Bob Mackie's ready wear in business.

This is a robe of some unknown ethnicity...I think Middle Eastern?...that was in the dress section, and I fell crazy in love with the detailing on the buttons and the embroidery at the bottom. With a cinched belt and a skirt underneath, like the other embroidered piece, it turns into an a-line type dress. I love all the little stitching and how dramatic the pattern is for an otherwise plain black garment. I WILL be wearing this, toute de suite.

Before I even got started on Goodwillapalooza 2014, I dropped by a yard sale that was just the other side of the tracks from me in Inglewood. Literally, if it wasn't for the placement of a railroad track whose bridge was further down, I could have easily walked to this sale. Eartha Kitsch sent Rae and me a message earlier in the week going, "You do NOT want to miss this sale, girl has got some GREAT STUFF". When Eartha says go, by Godfrey, I go! Rae and I both heeded the call, as we bumped into each other with our respective husbands bright and early that Saturday morning! She and Travis got some great photos, a kooky lamp, and a forties' or fifties' cake tin I am still too jealous of to quite describe to you (haha, I kid, couldn't be in a better home....anditwaspinkandturquoisewiththewordcakeonit *stifles sob*), and I got these little goodies. Eartha told no lie-- one, people were swarming the place like they were giving away treasures even in the pouring rain (the sale was thankfully in a car port and screened in porch), and two, everything there was like a distillation of the best stuff you would see at several estate sales. Which it probably was! Good eye, that picker.

Here's what I brought home:

I put my foot down on cameras a while back, and $10 wasn't a very good price on this Brownie six-16 Target, but I'm legitimately afraid I will stop seeing these things as much as I have in the past, and my fear drove me to pull out my pocketbook. In my sixty-some-odd camera strong collection, I actually don't have this deco-y little model (circa 1946-1951), and since it came with the box...I caved. I CAVED. I might never be able to fully stop buying cameras...I don't know what it is that appeals to me so much! The box's iconography, the way, if you had film for it and could process it yourself, that this camera would still work, no strings attached, no batteries required, today...they're pretty much my favorite collectible after clothes, framed pictures, and lamps (see: my horribly overcluttered house for more details).

Hats were $2 apiece...act like I wasn't going to get one. Or two. The black hat on the right is actually much cuter in real life, I'm always reminded of Audrey Hepburn in that one scene in Sabrina when I see cap-ish little fifties' hats like these.

Ok, seriously! End of the line! This is the last thing I bought, for $3:

What you should know about this photo-- it's HUGE! Well, in comparison to other photos of its time, definitely larger than life....maybe two feet wide by a foot across. The subject matter ("Man on Horse, Old") and the large format made me want to buy it for my collection of photos you wouldn't want to bump into unawares in the middle of the night...check the expression on the horse, and the expression on the man riding it:

What always bums me out about seeing photos like this is the person sitting for the photo's sense of how important this photo would be. You know what I mean? Nine times out of ten, I find pre 1900's photos in dismal states of disrepair...which of course, make them more interesting to me, but if I were the photograph or portrait's subject circa 1877, getting all gussied up for "a portrait for the grandkids to remember me by", I would be rolling over in my decades-old grave as the picture sat in someone's attic or barn or storage unit until it was eventually sold to a stranger with the half-hearted caveat, "We don't even know WHO that is, somebody's great-uncle." Being a collector of pictures, I'm glad they did forget who so-and-so was and have his poor picture for sale at discount prices, but dang! I also feel sorry for the guy who thought this photograph was going to carry his existence on in his family into the next century, for generations to come.

AN-Y-W-AY, how about you? Did you find anything good out at the sales this weekend? Are you a junk store addict who really COULD while the whole day away at store after store (I think I've answered that question for you on my behalf)? Which of these finds do you think was the best buy? Let's talk!

That's all for today, I gotta get to the business of shifting books (luckily, I'm reading this insanely compelling-to-read Patricia Highsmith collection on audiobook, so I'll have some nasty-pieces-of-work possible murderers to keep me company)...you have yourself a great Tuesday! And I will see you back here tomorrow. Til then!