Ephemera

Hi there! Co-admin RG asked for some assistance with his Halloween count-down (admittedly, 31 posts in a row is a bit much), so I’m here each Tuesday for the month to come, a throw-back to the Tentacle Tuesdays of yesteryear.

As you probably noticed, we like supposed bad omens around here, and lean into superstitions, too. I consider a black cat crossing my path is as a definite stroke of luck, as is having one of those beautiful silky beasts at home at all times (we are blessed with one such beast). The anglophone world has long had a tortuous relationship with black felines. Harbinger of luck or malevolent pawn of Satan? Flip a coin. Nevertheless, in the 20th century black cats seemed to have had a charmed streak, and appeared in many postcards as definite auguries of good luck. For my own self, I am sympathetic to witches (though not to the point of actually believing in their existence) and also of anarchism, of which the black cat has been adopted as a symbol from the late 19th century. Whatever way you look at it, black cats are cool.

Here are some postcards from the very early 20th century, say around 1905-1906. Unfortunately I cannot say who R. L. Wells is, other than noting that they have a very district style and seem to have created a wide array of postcards.

Our very own silky black beast. My camera usually has trouble focusing on his blackness, so this is a rare decent — and most recent! — photo.

And the following postcards are by the equally mysterious H. M. Rose (or is my Google-fu weak as water, today?), from 1913.

For a great selection of vintage black cat postcards, affix your peepers on this collection, among which is found this cat, my absolute favourite for its strangely human teeth and dazed expression of sorrow mixed with euphoria.

~ ds

« I know you’re lookin’ for a ruby in a mountain of rocks, but there ain’t no Coupe de Ville hidin’ at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box. » — Jim Steinman

Crumpets!

It began with crumpets. I was picking up a couple of packages of those scrumptious British griddle cakes at the only store in our small town that carries them — as far as I can tell. Glancing about, I noticed on a nearby shelf something I’d never encountered: packages of Cracker Jill*.

I’d been toying with the notion of a Cracker Jack post, but this surely was a sign. When I got home, the merest bit of research turned this up:

« Introducing Cracker Jill™! After more than 125 years with our iconic Sailor Jack mascot, we’re adding Jill to the team to celebrate the stories of the women and girls who are breaking barriers in sports. With her tenacity, vibrancy, and strength, Cracker Jill™ takes inspiration from the women that change the game on the playing field, and beyond.

Join us in supporting the next generation of athletes by donating to the Women’s Sports Foundation through CrackerJill.com. With a $5 donation or more, we’ll send you a bag of Cracker Jill™ while supplies last. Remember, keep an eye out for Cracker Jill™ in baseball stadiums around the country. »

It’s a most worthy cause, obviously, but a) Jack the Sailor (and his pooch Bingo) has only been the brand mascot since 1916. A mere 107 years, so the math’s off. And b) “Introducing”? There was already a Cracker Jill. Exhibit A, this product from 1977:

Prudently keeping in mind that this is a huge topic, with reams of historical ramifications, I’ll narrow my focus on a tiny area of the map: the four Cracker Jack prizes I’ve held on to for decades, and that turned up in a box I was browsing through the other day.

« Prizes were included in every box of Cracker Jack beginning in 1912. One of the first prizes was in 1914, when the company produced the first of two Cracker Jack baseball card issues, which featured players from both major leagues as well as players from the short-lived Federal League. Early “toy surprises” included rings, plastic figurines, booklets, stickers, temporary tattoos, and decoder rings. Books have been written cataloging the prizes, and a substantial collector’s market exists. » [ source ]

Like many a cartoonist (just ask Chip Kidd, Charles Burns, Mark Newgarden, Ben Katchor, Wayno, Chris Ware…), I’ve always been irresistibly drawn to the anonymous sprouts of advertising and industry: the artwork adorning matchbooks, cheap novelties and their packaging, beer coasters, liquor labels… so much toil that surely paid peanuts (and perhaps popcorn), unsigned and unappreciated. But a surprising portion of that work, ubiquitous and yet invisible, was created by skilled craftsmen. There’s a necessary economy of means, a simplicity of line — saving time and allowing for crappy, ‘it’ll do’ reproduction, but also effective design and a certain timeless je ne sais quoi.