Stephen H. Grant, Author at Stephen H. Grant

Letter to Henry Clay Folger on his 165th Birthday, June 18, 2022

by Stephen H. Grant | Jun 17, 2022 | Biography, Folger, Folger Shakespeare Library, Henry Folger, Shakespeare

“This is as great a tribute from a biographer to his subject as I have ever read.“

Amanda Mecke

Henry (if I may), I first learned about you at Amherst College. Here you are with Emily at the 45th reunion of the class of 1879. I also attend my Amherst reunions.

Fig. 1. You and Emily in the reunion photo. Folger Shakespeare Library

You liked to sing at Amherst and so did I. We both sang bass. We would have been a pair; you were 5’4” and I’m 6’4”. Your canes had it all over our purple freshman beanies.

Fig. 2. Amherst Glee Club. You are in first row, second on left. Folger Shakespeare Library

An Amherst classmate, Israel T. Deys, described you as “quiet, reserved, and studious.” Emily put it, “a modest and unpretending man.” In 1930, which would become the year of your death, however, something was gnawing at you. You desired to be honored. You wondered about it “a great deal.” You wished a book to be written about you, a book of 550 pages, like the one you read on Herbert Putnam. If you will allow, Henry, you bear some responsibility. You insisted on keeping a low profile, keeping out of the news, whether you were buying books or property. You gave only one interview. You didn’t sign your cables “FOLGER.” You signed them “GOLFER.”

Fig. 3. Your Jan. 3, 1930 letter to Librarian of Congress, Herbert Putnam. Library of Congress

Eighty-four years after you died, Johns Hopkins University Press published Collecting Shakespeare: The Story of Henry and Emily Folger. It contained only 245 pages. The volume took its place on the shelves of the Folger Library gift shop.

Fig. 4. Signing books at Folger gift shop on Shakespeare’s Birthday

A member of Encore Chorale, I sang under the late J. Reilly Lewis’s baton in the oak stalls of the Cathedral’s Great Choir. One of the first copies of Collecting Shakespeare that I inscribed at the Folger gift shop was to Reilly Lewis who was attending a concert by the Folger Consort.

Fig. 5. Bach scholar the late J. Reilly Lewis at Great Organ of Washington National Cathedral. Photo by Abigail Wiebenson, dedicatee of Collecting Shakespeare

Above the fireplace (that was never lit) are etched in stone lines from Ralph Waldo Emerson you would recognize: “Not sequent centuries could hit Orbit and sum of Shakespeare’s wit.”

Fig. 6. Folger director Michael Witmore’s congratulations in the reading room. Photo by James R. Brantley

I think you would have been happy to learn that your biography was published by Johns Hopkins Press, the oldest university press in the country, founded when you were an Amherst student.

Fig. 7. Director of Johns Hopkins Press Barbara Kline Pope and Folger director in Great Hall. Photo by James R. Brantley

Your biographer has given 80 talks about you and Emily and your “gift to the nation” of the Folger Shakespeare Library. I’ll evoke seven of them for you.

Fig. 8. Talk at Cosmos Club introduced by Folger director emerita Gail Kern Paster

Every year you played golf and Emily took the baths at the Homestead Resort in Hot Springs, Virginia. When I was invited for a weekend, the management thoughtfully gave me your old room #527 on the ground floor.

Fig. 9. Poster for Folger Talk at Omni-Homestead, Hot Springs, VA

Omni-Homestead Talk

You summered in Glen Cove, NY on Long Island, where your house conveniently stood right across from the railroad station and the Nassau Country Club.

Fig. 10. Talk in Long Island’s North Shore Historical Museum

In honor of the 400^th anniversary of Shakespeare’s death, “The Folger” (as taxi drivers knew it) sent 18 of your 82 copies of Shakespeare’s First Folio to all 50 American states, Washington, DC, and Puerto Rico. How about that?

Fig. 11. On stage with Shakespeare Guild’s president, John Andrews OBE, at New Mexico Museum of Art

Steve Grant’s First Folio Tour

https://www.press.jhu.edu/newsroom/steve-grants-first-folio-tour

On the 9^th floor of the San Diego Public Library next to a huge art gallery and an open-air patio, a First Folio lay open to the “To be or not to be” speech from Hamlet.

Fig. 12. Talk at San Diego Public Library and Shakespeare First Folio on Tour

At the Boston Athenaeum with a Folger grandniece and Shakespeare scholar Stephen Greenblatt in the hall, I project a photo of you as a toddler, Henry.

Fig. 13. You are holding with serious respect not a rattle, not a teddy bear, but a book

Boston Athenaeum Talk

https://vimeo.com/album/3310726/video/139975245

Whether a toddler or 65 years later, Henry, your grasp of the book with both hands is singularly the same. One of your personality traits was certainly consistency

Fig. 14. Henry Clay Folger young and old. Folger Shakespeare Library

A second trip to Boston was for a talk at the Somerset Club, down Beacon Hill from the Athenaeum. Henry, I traced your lineage back to Benjamin Franklin’s grandfather, Peter Folger.

Fig. 15. It was a privilege to be double-billed with Folger director, Michael Witmore

I was honored to address audiences in Edinburgh, London, Oxford, Cambridge, Bath, and Stratford-upon-Avon on your creating a Shakespeare Library with Emily in Washington, DC. At Shakespeare Institute Stratford, Shakespeare scholars Sir Stanley Wells CBE and Paul Edmondson sat in the first row.

Fig. 16. Talk at Shakespeare Institute, Stratford-upon-Avon, England

Shakespeare Institute, Stratford-upon-Avon Talk

When I addressed the audience in the Folger reading room on Shakespeare’s birthday, I could feel you looking over my shoulder, Henry.

Fig. 17. One of the speakers in the Folger reading room on Shakespeare’s Birthday. Photo by Bruce Guthrie

I am standing between the portraits of you and Emily in your resplendent Amherst and Vassar gown and hood. A few paces behind me lie two urns with your ashes.

Fig. 18. Author photo © Robert C. Lautman Photography, National Building Museum

Happy 165th Birthday, Henry!

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Dove Drama on the Deck:
Paired Photos from Up Close

by Stephen H. Grant | Jun 10, 2022 | Arlington, Birds, Covid-19, El Salvador, Nature, Photography, Washington D.C.

Bird Nest Observation 2020

Fig. 1. Security lights under an overhang make for safe, protected nesting spots, I’ve discovered so far. Mother robins seem to agree, for they’ve returned three years in a row. In Fig. 1, I admire the snug fit of bird on nest.

Fig. 2. A lone egg. This security light is on the south side. I could take photos of the drama as I had a front-row seat in my upstairs laundry room. First, I had to remove the screen, though. I watch mother-to-be robin fastidiously build the nest, then come and go, changing positions periodically until she has faced all four points of the globe. Were I to walk in front of the window, to hang up shirt, socks, or napkins, she would dart away, I guess frightened by the shadow or changing light.

Fig. 3. Three siblings and a ray of sun appear. If I approach the window, the startled robin will fly away to perch on a nearby fence.

Fig. 4. Silent chorus of soprano, alto, tenor, bass. Watching a parent feed its chick brings an involuntary smile to one’s lips. If I draw near the window the robin will interrupt the feeding session and dart away.

Me & Birds. In 1952 I was growing up in a Boston suburb with a bird feeder installed right outside my second-story bedroom window, where chickadees and phoebes were the most frequent visitors. Seventy years later, in 2022, I am living in the Washington, DC suburb of Arlington on the first floor, where robins and mourning doves are my most persistent guests. From my observation platform, feeding has given way to nesting. I’m not a birder, but I have had a copy of Roger Tory Peterson’s Eastern Birds handy for decades. I’ve gone camping in the Montecristo National Park where Guatemala, El Salvador, and Honduras meet. One morning walking behind a guide I learn the vital phrase, grito de alarma. Years later I cruise several of the Galapagos Islands. My wildest dreams never had me photographing a chick fledge.

Bird Nest Observation 2022

Fig. 5. On May Day I take my first photo of parent-to-be mourning dove who has settled into a nest both parents made among the white and purple winter pansies (arborvitae in the background) on my back deck. I take the pic with an iPhoneX power 10x through a bay window in the family room. I am standing propped against the window frame, or once I get smarter sitting in a cushioned bamboo chair, facing northwest fixing my gaze on the nest and hoping for action. The planters are on the west and north sides of the house. Am concerned at how unprotected this location appears to be from prey above such as hawks, that have swooped down on my yard before.

Fig. 6. I discover a bed of fine fluffy down: baby dove chicks, hatchlings, or “squabs.” I never see a parent leave the nest until this day. I never see the white eggs. I give them wide berth, rarely going out on the deck. I hear of cases where human proximity causes parents to abandon the nesting brood. I learn that the male dove handles the day shift, the female the night shift. Not only is there parity in parental care, but mourning doves mate for life. That is why doves are sometimes released during wedding ceremonies to bestow good fortune on the union.

Fig. 7. A chick snuggles tightly against father’s breast in perfect symmetry of father-child positioning. The heads don’t seem too different in size, but the bodies do.

Fig. 8. Dad is preparing to leave the two chicks alone in the nest.

Fig. 9. The first lesson, kiddos, is to learn to look to the left. Got that?

Fig. 10. Now the second lesson is to learn to look to the right.

Fig. 11. Dad bestows a kiss on one chick, the other patiently waiting its turn. It turns out this will be fledging day.

Fig. 12. Chick #1 is off!

Fig. 13. Chick #2 has never known what it was like to be the only chick. No pressure!

Fig. 14. Chick #2 is clinging oh so desperately onto Dad.

Fig. 15. OK, high time to flutter a bit.

Fig. 16. Time for a good-luck peck. It’s a good opportunity to observe and compare size and coloring of parent & chick.

Fig. 17. Yay, no. 2 is off! With both chicks fledged, I am the one left alone. I wonder if I will see the chicks again! Where will they spend the night? Somewhere nearby near Mom and Dad? I go about my daily activities.

Fig. 18. The nest looks the worse for wear, trampled out of shape. You may have noticed my brown slippers at the bottom of this photo. Yes, I have ventured out on the deck. With the doves all gone now I can repossess the space! Just in time, as I’ve planned a dinner for seven on the deck for the next day. Dinner takes place, with a thank-you note containing the message, “our thanks to the birds for fledging just in time.”

Fig. 19. This is the morning after fledging. How many doves do we have here, three or four? Parents are light-colored, and the chick dark-colored, right?

Fig. 20. I am walking down the ramp from the back deck when I spy a squab nonchalantly ambling between the flaxseed hedge and the rubbish bins. Out for a spin, are ya, little fella? Or a reconnaissance mission around the perimeter? Let me follow at a discreet distance. Damn! I get too close and it flies away.

Fig. 21. Would the chick fly all the way to the top of the house? Don’t have to. It discovers a narrow ledge on the first-floor exterior window sill on the east side. That position will do very nicely, eight feet off the ground. I have an idea, and quietly go in the house and walk over to the same window.

Fig. 22. The chick is paying no attention to the dog walkers, but gazing intently at the window. Does it want to get in? How many chicks in their first hours of freedom are looking inside houses? A peeping chick.

Fig. 23. The following day I am at my desk on the other (west) side of the house when I hear a commotion at my window. It’s a chick! They are coming at me from both sides of the house.

Fig. 24. But wait! What do I see the next day? A dove on the deck railing with strand of straw in its beak. What’s going on? Has the word passed around it’s a cool nesting spot, as my daughter thinks? I try to stare it down. Hey, aren’t you done for the season? Is father dove planning a family with another lady? Or mother dove with another guy? At any rate, the flattened nest is rebuilt in a few hours, ready for new residents. Oh, no! Here we go again.

Fig. 25. I decide to sit down and have a talk with mother dove, ask her what’s going on. First I explain that I have enjoyed hosting birds on my property during their incubation periods, but that I feel it’s time to get back to unfettered enjoyment of the deck. The dove appears to espouse a different view. Since I have the house, why can’t they have the deck? Maybe some sort of creative time-share arrangement?

Fig. 26. Dad appears to be happily ensconced in the rebuilt nest.

Fig. 27. The photo is out of focus, as I was in a hurry to take the picture. But I know what it is. Six days after fledging one of the two chicks flies in to the nesting area for a cameo appearance. I’m doing fine, Dad. Just checking in for a brief second. See you later!

Fig. 28. The following day is Saturday, when I have Guatemalan workmen coming to repaint the wrought-iron railings. We decide not to disturb the four planters on the western front, but otherwise to complete the list of tasks. Mr. Dove puts up with the nearby labor, seemingly unperturbed by the odor of paint, human proximity, or music blaring from the iPhone. Robins feel threatened by human presence, doves appear to accept it.

Fig. 29. Later that day we behold two white eggs! The tending parent was scared by a loud noise near him and vacates the nest, time enough for me to step up and take a photo. A rare peak at what is a carefully guarded secret. A few minutes later Dad returns to take up his firm sitting position. I notice parent robin often vacating the eggs and parent dove never.

Fig. 30. Pop is flying in to relieve Mom at 8:37 AM. I’ve been wondering when the night shift changes to the day shift for doves. It’s fitting that I make the discovery of the Changing of the Guard on Memorial Day, being celebrated at nearby Arlington National Cemetery. As it happens, at the end of the day, I hear a loud flutter of wings near my window and ascertain that the night shift has begun. It’s 5:01 PM.

Taking stock. It’s been one month since I snapped the picture in Fig. 5. It is Covid time and I spend most of my days at home. Never before have birds, robins and doves in particular, absorbed my attention from dawn to dusk. What a contrast between dove and robin, I’ve noticed. The dove will sprawl its one-foot-long carcass on top of eggs and then chicks, in a planter open to the elements, as though it is completely relaxed, or getting a sun tan. On the other hand, the robin never relaxes, never sprawls, lives in perpetual fright, ever ready to dart away, even though protected by roof overhang. In the few minutes before my yoga class via zoom commences, I find myself sharing the most recent news of my feathered friends. The yoga instructor smiles and approves of the attention given to Nature during the stressful period of the pandemic. It is comforting to get out of oneself and become more familiar with birds which, after all, totally have invaded my property and used my many trees and thick hedges for refuge. I ruminate that it’s a good thing soil in my yard is abundant and grub-rich. How different the landscape would be in the inner city.

I am distracted by a personal health issue: recently, I was exposed to Covid-19. I need to put my camera down to administer at-home tests and listen for the timer to go off after 15 minutes. As for now, I seem to have escaped the scourge Alhumdulilah!

The next generation of deck dovelets has broken out of their eggs with parental pecking. For many days held down by mother’s substantial real estate, the babies little by little work their way out and up on their feet. Here we observe a moment of huddling where mother may be whispering signals as to what’s in store next. From the photo of May 13 (Fig. 6.) to that of June 9 (Fig. 31) we’ve come full circle: two generations in the nest in just under four weeks.

Fig. 32. These past few days as I’ve cancelled invitations to the home for meals or drinks, I’ve nevertheless not been alone. I’ve prepared my meals and eaten them on the deck where I can observe the current nest resident, while it observes me from eight feet away. It’s been a privilege to have an uninvited but welcomed guest, with a front-row seat for intimate behavioral observation. Lucky me!

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ASSASSINATED on a park bench in 1913,
Sitting President of El Salvador, Dr. Manuel Araujo

by Stephen H. Grant | May 24, 2022 | Biography, Books, Collecting, Deltiology, El Salvador, Heritage, Postcards

Fig. 1 Postcard of Salvadoran President Fernando Figueroa and
Vice-President Manuel E. Araujo

This is a rare (the only?) postcard depicting portraits of a Salvadoran President and Vice-President. The distributor of the card was Max Rosenblum, German merchant established in San Salvador and responsible for many of the first postcards circulated in the country.

Dr. Manuel Enrique Araujo (1865–1913) was Vice-President for the duration of the Presidency of Fernando Figueroa (1907–1911), and then was elected President. Several locations in the Department of Usulután claim his birthplace, among them the town of Jucuapa and his family’s hacienda in the Valley of Condadilla. Araujo’s father was Basque, his mother Portuguese.

Araujo studied medicine in El Salvador, specializing in surgery. His practicing medical career covered the decade of the 1890s, and into the first decade of the 20th century. He performed operations on prostate glands and eye tumors. He invented surgical instruments. As President, in 1911, he convoked and inaugurated in San Salvador, the first Central American Medical Congress. He was one of the first major coffee plantation owners, with estates in the Department of Usulután. Entering politics, he was elected deputy from Usulután, and subsequently Mayor of San Salvador.

Dr. Araujo served as Salvadoran President from March 1, 1911 until his assassination on February 4, 1913. He was accustomed to walking around downtown San Salvador very freely, with only one guard. The President especially fancied the parks, and had his favorite benches in each of them. In the evening he often went to the Bolívar Park (now Barrios Park), where he sat and listened to orchestral concerts. Sometimes he sat with friends and sometimes alone.

On the evening of February 4, 1913, he was sitting on a simple wooden bench with his brother-in-law, Tomás Vásquez Peralta and two old friends and colleagues: the Salvadoran Ambassador to the United States, Francisco Dueñas (1868–1945) and the former Mayor of San Salvador, Carlos Dueñas (1870–1917). The band, “Banda de los altos poderes,” under the direction of the Spaniard Pedro Ferrer y Rodrigo (1848–1933), had just played Franz Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody. At about 8:30 P.M. three assassins attacked the President, who received three machete wounds in the head and a revolver bullet in the shoulder. He died five days later on February 9.

Fig. 2 Postcard of Funeral Procession for of Salvadoran President Manuel E. Araujo
Arriving at National Cemetery in San Salvador

On February 10, the slain President’s embalmed body was exposed in the Blue Room of the National Palace in San Salvador. That day, and until the morning of February 12, the public filed by his casket. Then, the casket was taken between a double line of National Guardsmen to the Cathedral for a Requiem Mass. In this historic picture in front of the Cathedral on February 12, three men behind the President’s coffin can be identified: Dr. Ramón García Gonzáles, Dr. Gustavo S. Baron, and Dr. David Rosales.

At 11:00 A.M., the funeral procession with the bier drawn by six horses went from the Cathedral along 6e Calle to the corner of 8a Avenida Norte; then north to 7e Calle, and west to 13e Avenida Sur; and finally south to 4e Calle Poniente and the entrance to the Cementerio General de San Salvador. According to eye-witnesses, the procession was six blocks long. The iron fence one sees is that of the main entrance to the Cathedral. Also buried in this cemetery is the Italian aviator, Enrico Massi, the subject of a previous blog post, Enrico Massi, Italian aviator, dies giving a flying lesson in El Salvador, 1923

Fig. 3 Tomb of President Dr. Manuel E. Araujo and Family
Photo by Stephen Grant

Araujo’s mausoleum was designed by the artist, Carlos Alberto Imery (1979–1943). It is striking for its originality. Note the font of the capital letters: M. E. ARAUJO Y FAMILIA; they represent a combination of Art Nouveau and Art Deco styles, both of which inspired the artist. President Araujo encouraged Imery to open a School of Drawing and Painting in his home in 1912.

On the day of Araujo’s death, the National Assembly met, and decreed 30 days of mourning for the “fallen martyr.” Also on the day of the President’s death, his Vice-President, Carlos Meléndez (1861–1919), was sworn in as President. With President Meléndez’s support. Imery was named director of the newly created School of Graphic Arts in 1913. He later served as director of the National Museum from 1928 to 1930.

The simple wooden park bench where the attack on the President took place was displayed for many years in the David Guzman Museum. Currently [1997] it is being stored in an upstairs room of the National Palace. On the bench are written the names, “F. Dueñas,” “C. Dueñas,” and “Parque Bolívar.” One reminder of the President is the strip of the Pan-American Highway in San Salvador near the International Fairgrounds, entitled, “Alameda Dr. M.E. Araujo.” The Red Room of the National Palace in San Salvador contains painted portraits of both presidents.

Fig. 4 Painting of President Dr. Manuel E. Araujo in Presidential Portrait Gallery,
National Palace, San Salvador
Photo by Stephen Grant

Three farmers––Mulatio Virgilio, Firmin Perez, and Fabian Graciano––were arrested and executed after a military trial. Alfaro Menéndez was thought to have motivated the attack; he fled the country for two years.

Other Salvadoran Presidents assassinated were: Osmin Aguirre y Salinas, Enrique Álvarez Córdova, Ana María, Francisco Gómez, Maximiliano Hernández Martinez, and Manual Méndez.

(Text from Grant, Stephen, Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards. San Salvador, El Salvador: Fundación María Escalón de Núñez, 1999, 328 pp. Bilingual edition, pp 280–283.)

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Happy Birthday, Emily Jordan Folger

by Stephen H. Grant | May 12, 2022 | Amherst, Biography, Emily Folger, Folger, Folger Shakespeare Library, Literature, Shakespeare

“I am so glad we have resurrected Emily’s reputation — and added proof to the life-long value of Higher Education for American women.“

Amanda Mecke

Emily Jordan was born in Ironton, Ohio on May 15, 1858. Following her two older sisters to Vassar College, she emerged a bluestocking: a refined lady with intellectual, scholarly, and literary interests. Emily’s Vassar 1879 class of 36 students elected her class president for life. Although her undergraduate scrapbook attests to a few dates with nearby West Pointers, she met her husband to be in Brooklyn at a literary salon in the home of Charles Pratt, founder of the Pratt Institute. Henry Folger also graduated in 1879, from Amherst College, where he roomed with Charles Pratt Jr. Both Emily and Henry earned Phi Beta Kappa keys. Neither Emily’s nor Henry’s parents attended college.

Emily Jordan, 1879
Vail Photographers, Poughkeepsie, N.Y.
Vassar College Special Collections

Emily took one of the few jobs open to young women, teaching. She taught in the collegiate department at the Nassau Institute—Miss Hotchkiss’s school for young ladies—in Brooklyn. When she married Henry in 1885, she was obliged to give up her teaching job. For the next half century, Emily served as a full partner in one of the most prodigious literary feats of all time: assembling the largest collection of Shakespeare in the world. Henry Folger corresponded with 600 booksellers, 150 in London alone. The underground vault of the Folger Shakespeare Library contains 258 linear feet of auction catalogs which arrived at Henry’s office, 26 Broadway in Manhattan, home of the Standard Oil Company where he worked for five decades. When he brought the catalogs home to Emily in their Bedford-Stuyvesant brownstone, her job was to identify the items she wanted in their collection. Henry put together a bid list, and paid for the winning lots from his oil fortune. Then Emily wrote up each item for the card catalog, developing writer’s cramp along the way. A childless couple, the Folgers were singlemindedly devoted to the Bard. They received family only twice a year: Thanksgiving and January 1. Nieces remember that on these sparse occasions, their aunt expected them to recite poetry and rewarded them with a book with a five-dollar bill tucked inside. The Folgers attended no social events nor hosted any business dinners. When they went on vacation in Virginia, they lugged a special travel card catalog around with them. On their numerous voyages to England, they attended Shakespeare performances, went book hunting, and brought back poppy seeds from Stratford-upon-Avon.

Emily Jordan Folger, 1927
By Frank O. Salisbury
Folger Shakespeare Library

Emily was a close adviser to her husband in the acquisition of eighty-two Shakespeare First Folios, the 1623 compilation of thirty-six plays, eighteen of which might have been lost to the world as they had not been printed. Emily had earned a masters degree at Vassar with a thesis on “The True Text of Shakespeare,” pointing to the 1623 publication as the most authoritative edition of the plays. Emily kept a fascinating play diary, where she wrote pages and pages of detail concerning the 125 Shakespeare plays she saw in her lifetime. In 1919, the Folgers started buying up the fourteen redbrick rowhouses two blocks from the U.S. Capitol on land they had identified for a permanent repository for their Shakespeare collection. Each of the deeds noted Emily Jordan Folger as owner. She also held in her name bank vault and storage warehouse accounts where they stored books, manuscripts, playbills, prints, engravings, paintings, pieces of furniture, porcelain, armor, maps, charts, phonograph records, costumes, globes, musical instruments, and curios. Henry stayed beneath the radar. In the late 1920s the Folgers continued their aggressive buying of Shakespeare items, but made the time to help design what would become the Folger Shakespeare Library with French-born architect, Paul Philippe Cret. They selected quotations to be etched in stone. They identified scenes from Shakespeare’s plays for relief sculptures on the library façade.

Emily Jordan Folger, 1931
Folger Shakespeare Library

It was Emily’s Day on April 23, 1932, the 368th celebration of Shakespeare’s birthday, when, wearing a shoulder corsage of orchids, and lilies of the valley over her academic robe, she turned over the keys of the Folger Shakespeare Library to the chairman of the board of Amherst College, who was responsible for the administration of the Folger. Henry was not present. He had died suddenly two weeks after the cornerstone was laid. He had never seen one stone of his library. He had never seen all his books and Shakespeare treasures assembled together under one roof. Seamlessly, Emily took over the mantle to make the research library a reality. She died in 1936. The Folgers’ ashes are in urns behind a bronze plaque in the reading room. The Folger is a library, a theatre, and a mausoleum.

(This post was originally published on Johns Hopkins University Press Blog on May 15, 2015)

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Othello, Henry Folger, & Capt. John Robinson

by Stephen H. Grant | Apr 22, 2022 | Biography, Books, Collecting, England, Folger, Literature, Shakespeare

“Thank you for sending this copy of your blog about the connection between the Folgers and Captain Robinson. I enjoyed reading it, and their interaction is a delightful one, clearly appreciated by both parties. The letter makes the inscription in the book so much more meaningful than just having the inscribed book alone. It is certainly special to you to have both the book and the letter. “

Anna Dworken

APRIL 23, 2022 IS WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE’S BIRTHDAY!
In no one’s book is one’s 458th birthday a barn burner.

From 2014 to through 2019, I gave 82 talks on my biography of the founders of the Folger Shakespeare Library, Collecting Shakespeare: The Story of Henry and Emily Folger, published by Johns Hopkins University Press. 2014 marked the Bard’s 450th birthday; that year I gave 42 Folger talks. 2016 represented the Bard’s 400th birthday, when I gave 16 Folger talks.

I will celebrate the 458th birthday in 2022 with a blog post featuring a Shakespeare play (Othello), a Shakespeare collector (Henry Folger), and a British sea captain, John Robinson, who memorized vast quantities of the canon and was convinced that Shakespeare was “an admirable and experienced sailor.”

After a Folger talk in 2915 at The Grolier Club in New York City, a member, James Cummins, came up to me and let it be known that his rare book shop carried a book that Henry Folger had inscribed to a friend. Was I interested in buying it for $100? I passed.

However, when out of the blue in February 2022, a bookseller named Alan Winter in Essex, England emailed me to offer a (different) book Folger had inscribed to a friend, along with a manuscript letter to that friend, I expressed interest. The seller accepted my bid of $275.

I never spent so much money on a book before. But it wasn’t really the book I sought; it was more the dated Henry Folger note to Capt. John Robinson that came with it. For 15 years, I had been fascinated by the friendship that had developed between the Robinsons and the Folgers. The best way for the reader to understand my interest in Alan Winter’s proposed items is to read the post published in Folger Shakespeare Library’s research blog The Collation on June 23, 2020 as Covid 19 came rolling in. In it, you will be able to contemplate these images:

Fig. 1. Magazine photo of Capt. John Robinson in uniform, 1905 (Folger archives)

Fig. 2. Stereoscopic photo of Capt. John Robinson at sea, 1906 (Folger archives)

Fig. 3 “Handy” Shakespeare editions Folgers took on ocean voyages (Folger archives)

Fig. 4. Four picture postcards, one envelope from Robinson to Folger, 1909 (Folger archives)

Fig. 5. Photo Robinson sent Folger of him in his garden in Watford, Herts (Folger archives)

Fig. 6. Atlantic Transport Line schedule, 1910 (Grant archives)

Fig. 7. Three-page letter from Capt. John Robinson to Henry Folger, 1910 (Grant archives)

https://stephenhgrant.com/postcards-in-the-folger-archives-british-sea-captain-john-robinson-and-henry-folger/

Here’s how the book and note purchase happened. . .

On Monday, Feb. 7, 2022, at 9:20 AM, my webmistress and I received an email from an Alan Winter with an offer. “Hi Stephen. I have a copy of an excellent condition first edition 1886 copy of a new variorum vol v1 edited by Horace Furness) Othello personally inscribed by Mr and Mrs Folger to Capt Robinson dated Sept 1st 1907. I also have a personal letter, on headed Folger notepaper, to Capt Robinson thanking him for the best ever trip on the Minnihaha, and asking that Capt Robinson accept this copy of Othello, as he saw that this title was missing from Capt Robinson’s bookshelves. Would you be interested in purchasing this, or if not have you contact details for relatives of Capt Robinson’s who may be interested in purchasing it? More details and photos if required. Thank you. Alan WINTER”

On Feb 10, a second message from Winter soon followed. “Thank you for your quick response and interest. I am keen that this item goes to someone who can appreciate it’s historical context, rather than just eBay it. It is a small but remarkable piece of personal history. A heartfelt and thoughtful gift with a very personal note. They must have been very good friends. I bought the book in eBay amongst nine other Shakespeare books so I have no knowledge of its recent history. All of the other books bought were handsomely illustrated, but as you will know, that is not the case with the new variorum edition of Othello. It came from a private library so presumably the deceased library owner recognized the value of the letter and the book together, and that was why he bought the item. It is amazing that the letter has stayed with the book. The book was not advertised and was simply one of nine that helped mask the book I actually wanted, which was a leather bound first edition copy of a Midsummer Night’s Dream, illustrated by Arthur Rackham.”

Fig. 1
Package from Essex, England arrived in Arlington, Va.
Photo by Stephen Grant

We agreed on a price through eBay and I paid. The bookseller in Essex, England posted the materials via the Royal Mail. The whole operation took exactly a month.

My opening the packaging around the book made me think of the Folgers opening hundreds of book packages in their basement at 24 Brevoort Place in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn.

Fig. 2
VARIORUM SHAKESPEARE OTHELLO FURNESS JB LIPPINCOTT CO.
Photo by Stephen Grant

The book was copyright in 1886 by the J. B. Lippincott Company in Philadelphia and contains 471 pages. It measures 7×10 in. and weighs 3.4 lbs.

Fig. 3
Shield on pebble-grain cloth binding
Photo by Stephen Grant

The book has a typical trade or publisher’s binding from the late 19th century. It is bound in a popular cloth at the time, a pebble grain, starch impregnated cloth, stamped in gold. A shield is blocked or stamped on the front cover. The book is in good condition and shows little sign of use. I never before owned a book with a pebble-grain binding. I picked up the habit of running my thumb over the book when I passed by it on a mahogany table in my bedroom.

Fig. 4
Handwritten note from Henry Folger to Capt. John Robinson, Sept. 1, 1907
Photo by Stephen Grant

Dear Captain Robinson:–
I think your set of the Furness Shakespeare lacks the Othello. Mrs. Folger and I cannot go ashore after this,– the very finest of our delightful voyages with you without leaving some reminder behind. Will you make room for this on your shelves?
Very truly yours,
H. C. Folger Jr.

Captain John Robinson,
SS “Minnehaha” –

Henry Clay Folger in his correspondence is the epitome of courtesy and refinement. He has traveled across the Atlantic with stationary embossed with the letter “F.” Folger has taken the pains to carefully look over the Shakespeare volumes he had been sending the good captain over the years that lay on the shipmaster’s shelves and noticed the absence of the Othello Variorum. Henry qualifies the latest crossing in superlative terms; with a wink he asks how the Folgers could possibly leave shipboard without remedying the situation.

I quote two paragraphs from Collecting Shakespeare to provide the reader with additional information concerning the close Folger-Robinson relationship:

On Good Friday every year, the Folgers traveled to Wallingford, Pennsylvania, for a short visit to the Furnesses for what their host jokingly called “endless Shakespeare gossip.” The visits always included Shakespeare readings and commentary by the erudite Furness that would leave Folger spellbound. The two couples looked forward to these visits as the social and intellectual apex of their year. Helen Furness had published a book on Shakespeare’s poetry. Before he died in 1912, Horace Howard Furness edited eighteen of the plays in “variorum” editions—that is, volumes providing copiously annotated texts filled with critical commentary spanning generations. When the Folgers walked up the front lawn, Furness burst out the door to blast a welcome on his trumpet. He thanked Emily for the poems she had sent him. One of Furness’s many letters to Emily—posted in small white envelopes sealed in black wax—read, “The picture you draw of working with your husband moves me deeply.” After the guests settled in, Furness proudly showed off some recent acquisition or improvement, such as a new fireproof room to house their valuables. After dinner, the two couples repaired to the library of 12,000 volumes on Elizabethan drama for deep discussion. Folger visits to the Furnesses brought alive the past. In the late 1880s, before they had met Furness, Emily and Henry had copied in their commonplace books Shakespearean commentary by Furness to ponder and discuss. One line read, “If there is one quality in which Shakespeare is forever Shakespeare, it is in the unity of his characters, in the thorough individuality, in the absolute truth to themselves.” Furness had become mentor and friend to an inner circle of Shakespeare worshipers. When Furness died, he was holding a rare Shakespeare volume he had had specially bound as a gift to the Folgers (Collecting Shakespeare, pp. 36–37).

One Christmas, Captain Robinson gave the Folgers his painting of Anne Hathaway’s cottage. Touched by the gesture, Folger assured the captain that the painting hung in honorable company in the Folger house: “You may guess how satisfactory the painting is when I tell you that it has been hung over Hayman’s portrait of Quinn as Falstaff, painted from life and used as the basis of the well-known engraving, and at right angles to Sir Joshua Reynolds’s portrait of Garrick.” The Folgers sent Robinson a complete set of the Furness variorum editions of Shakespeare. They gave Captain Robinson and his family seeds from Shakespeare’s garden in Stratford, and Renee Robinson offered Emily poppy seeds to take back to America. A special treat for the Robinsons occurred when they motored from their residence in the northwest London suburb of Watford to Stratford-upon-Avon as guests of the Folgers to attend a Shakespeare performance (Collecting Shakespeare, p. 38–39).

Fig. 5
Front endpaper
Photo by Stephen Grant

Alan Winter may have purchased the copy of Othello from a bookdealer who purchased part of the Alan Carr Library in London. Alan Carr’s bookplate is affixed to the endpaper at the beginning of the book.

Fig. 6
Front flyleaf
Photo by Stephen Grant

Opposite the endpaper is the flyleaf on which is written in pencil at the top, “First Edition – published April 10, 1886 –. Underneath Henry Folger wrote in pen the following inscription:
Captain John Robinson,
S/S “Minnehaha.”
with the sincere regards of
Mr. & Mrs. H. C. Folger Jr.
Sept 1, 1907–

Fig. 7
Book Price
Photo by Stephen Grant

On the back of the flyleaf is written in pencil the price of the book at one point: £3.

Fig. 8
Title page
Photo by Stephen Grant

The title page is printed in black and red type. At the bottom is added in pencil, (1886). The J. B. Lippincott Company in Philadelphia was founded in 1836. The sixth Shakespeare variorum volume, Othello, was published in 1886, the year the Lippincott founder, Joshua Ballinger Lippincott, died.

Fig. 9
Back flyleaf
Photo by Stephen Grant

On the back flyleaf, the price of the book at another point is marked in pencil as 5/, or five shillings.

Fig. 10
Back endpaper
Photo by Stephen Grant

On the back endpaper at the bottom is written, “CSS” and underneath, “ape 10/86.”

Capt. John Robinson retired from his maritime career in 2007 due to poor eyesight.

I would welcome comments at the end of this blog post regarding interpretation of any aspects of images or text. Happy Birthday, Will!

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The Civil War Footprint of my Great-Grandfather,
Maj. Hiram Lewis Grant (1843–1922)

by Stephen H. Grant | Apr 11, 2022 | Biography, Civil War, Collecting, Heritage, Military, US History, Washington D.C.

“Stephen, what an amazing story. The manner in which you have woven facts and artifacts together is extraordinary. Your work will, no doubt, inspire others to embark upon their own personal journey to chronicle their family history. I enjoyed every word. I also appreciate the reference and inclusion on my book and image. Thank you for a wonderful piece of history. Great job!!”

Craig James

“What a fascinating piece. I particularly enjoyed reading about how your detective work uncovered the larger story. And the family pictures are priceless. You’ve inspired me to do more research on the Civil War soldiers from our house. Thanks so much for sharing it.”

Mary Ann Zeman

My family has been pretty damn good about taking and saving family photographs. It’s quite cool in itself to see a family portrait which covers three generations.

Fig. 1. Three generations of Grants, 1912

I don’t know who took the picture nor where, but I identify:
My great-grandfather, Maj. Hiram Lewis Grant, second from left; and
his eldest of three children, my grandfather, Rev. John Hiram Grant, at right.

John Hiram’s children were all boys; my father, Stephen Walkley Grant, in front;
my uncle, John Phillips Grant, at left; and my uncle Alfred Hall Grant, in back.

At 69 years old, Hiram with his broad shoulders dwarfs his progeny. Only my father, age 4, is tieless. He has the most pronounced dimple. While his older bros are smiling, Dad, like his father and grandfather is closed-lipped. I am very proud of how my grandmother, Margaret Knowlton Hall Grant, dressed her boys to a tea for the studio portrait of three generations. It must have been an event at the time, but who knows whether they ever talked about it afterward?

To follow the line, we have:

Fig. 2. My Grandfather and me, 1944
Wellesley, MA

Fig. 3. My Father and me, 1953
Goves Falls, NH

If one were to add a fourth generation, one would get, in the male line:

Fig. 4. My Father, My Son Yonel, and me, 1972
Wellesley, MA

Black and white photos have given way to color, formal to informal dress, and studio to backyard setting. I need an aside to explain the caption in my Mother’s hand above the three-generational image in Fig. 4: “Steve 1, 2, & 3.” Stephen Walkley Grant is Steve 1; Stephen Hall Grant is Steve 2. The story gets more complicated with Steve 3. My French wife Annick and I decided to name our son Yonel Lekadou Grant. Lekadou is a name in the Bété language of Ivory Coast that means “treasure of the village.” When Yonel was born in France, I was in Ivory Coast, having recently completed my Peace Corps assignment. My father-in-law went to register the newborn’s name at the town hall in Qt. St. Jacques, Grasse. On the spot, he added Steve to make it Yonel Steve Lekadou Grant’s official name. Pls note in Fig. 4. my good hair day.

I was going about my life for three-quarters of a century until one day––perhaps sparked by my sister Corie’s self-published memoir in 2011, Our Family Heritage: The Hart, Hincks, Welles, Waller, Hawley, and Grant Families by Cornelia Ann Grant Nichols––I decided to look into my great-grandfather’s life. It was Mar. 8, 2020, and I was looking forward to attending the annual “DC ANTIQUE PHOTO, POSTCARD & CIVIL WAR SHOW at the Rosslyn Holiday Inn in Arlington, VA.

There was just one hitch. Covid 19 had just been declared, and we were warned to wash our hands for 20 seconds, not to get close to people, not to rub our eyes. I decided I would throw caution to the winds, however, thinking, “Hell, if I die, at least I will have had some fun sleuthing among dusty old postcards, sober daguerreotypes in fancy frames, and I didn’t know what to expect in the Civil War room, as I had never crossed that threshold before.

Fig. 5. Postcards Announcing Civil War Shows in DC, 2021, 2022

I exchanged business cards with the following gentlemen I met during the one hour I spent in the Civil War room in 2020: Kurt Luther, Columnist, Photo Sleuth, MilitaryImagesMagazine.com; Ron Coddington, MilitaryImagesMagazine.com; Paul J. Brzozowski, dealer in historic American documents and Letters. It was an unfamiliar world for me, but not totally new for since the 1980s I had attended old postcard shows and was accustomed to the back-and-forth between buyers and sellers of ephemera.

Behind a table and propped behind a computer screen, Kurt Luther was wearing a VIRGINIA TECH sweatshirt and looked to me like a graduate student. Actually he’s an Associate Professor of Computer Science and Director of the Crowd Intelligence Lab. “The Civil War counted three million combatants on both sides,” he informed me. “Our data base includes photographs of thirty thousand. What did you say your great-grandfather’s name was again?” Let’s see whether we’ll have any luck.

Fig. 6. Kurt Luther on left, Hiram Grant on right
Photo by Stephen Grant, March 8, 2020

Look how Kurt is smiling in this photo. You should have seen how I was beaming! Would you believe it? Double Bingo! The Virginia Tech data base included two photos of my relative, in a major’s dress uniform.

Fig. 7. Major Hiram L. Grant, sitting

Fig. 8. Major Hiram L. Grant, standing

Under one photo is typed “Sincerely yours,” and the other handwritten “Yours truly.” Most helpful is the added precision of the date, June 28, 1865 and the location, Goldsboro, NC.

Kurt told me the originals of the two images––in a scrapbook, it looks like––are housed in the U.S. Army Military History Institute (MHI) in Carlisle, PA.

I thought that might have been it. After hitting the jackpot, then what do I do? I hesitated as to my next move. Kurt generously filled in the void from his deep knowledge of Civil War uniforms. “There doesn’t seem to be any other visitor anxious to consult our data base right now, so let me tell you something about the shoulder straps,” Kurt launched in. I hadn’t even noticed the pair of straps on the shoulders of Hiram’s uniform in both portraits.

“In the later years of the war, officers began to recognize that their distinctive shoulder straps with gold borders made them a target for sharpshooters. So they began to adopt ‘subdued’ insignia which omitted the gold borders and was less noticeable from a distance. It is possible, but not definite, that the standing view of Hiram Grant predates the seated view because he has the gold-bordered straps in the former and subdued rank in the latter. That may suggest the seated view is later in the war.” Wow, I thought. That’s absolutely amazing!

“Grant was promoted to major in Jan. 1864 and lieutenant colonel in Nov. 1864. So both photos are fairly late in the war. Unfortunately, the insignia for both ranks appears the same: oak leaves on the straps. The major would be gold and the lieutenant colonel silver, but that difference can’t be discerned from period photos, to the frustration of us modern researchers. So it’s impossible to say which rank he held in the two photos except that he was definitely one of the two. One could speculate that when he was promoted to lieutenant colonel, he took the opportunity to purchase subdued insignia, which supports the theory that the seated view is later. I believe that adopting ‘subdued’ insignia was never official army policy, but officers bought their own uniforms anyway, so it was something that developed informally. By the way, this tradition of “subdued” rank insignia has carried forward to the modern-day Army. When soldiers are in garrison, they wear the colored (red / white / blue) US flag patch on their shoulder sleeve. When they are deployed in the field, they wear a subdued (olive / black) flag.” I left the Civil War room at the annual DC show energized to look further into my great-grandfather’s story.

I had not gone to the Civil War room on Mar. 8, 2020 emptyhanded. I had brought the reproduction of a photo of Hiram Grant taken in 1919 and included in a 1986 article by John Bell, Jr. that appeared in the Dictionary of North Carolina Biography, 6 volumes, edited by William S. Powell (UNC Press, 1979–1996. Given its relevance to the blog post at hand, I copy the first paragraph of said article:

“Grant enlisted as a private in Company A, Sixth Connecticut Volunteer Infantry on 3 Sept. 1861 and gradually rose in rank to major. On 23 July 1863, he was one of twenty volunteers sent to silence the guns of Fort Wagner on Morris Island at Charleston harbor. Seriously wounded in the action, he was awarded the medal of honor by General Q. A. Gillmore on 23 Aug. 1863. After being confined for eight months to a hospital in Beaufort, N.C., Grant was reassigned to the staff of General Joseph R. Hawley (/biography/hawley-joseph-roswell) of the Tenth Army Corps and served in that position during the entire Virginia campaign. Grant commanded a portion of the Union troops that made the successful assault on Fort Fisher in January 1865. Subsequently he was appointed provost marshal of Wilmington and later of Goldsboro. The white population of these two towns greatly disliked the black troops he commanded. Grant was honorably discharged from the army on 24 Aug. 1865. During the Spanish-American War he returned to active duty for thirteen months as paymaster in the District of Columbia, Puerto Rico, and New York City.”

It is from the John Bell Jr. article that I learned for the first time that Hiram Grant commanded black troops. I’d like to know more about my ancestor’s commanding Colored Troops, including the part about the white population “greatly disliked the black troops he commanded.” In Figs. 16. & 17, we will see Hiram’s mention of Colored Troops.

I was not to leave Kurt Luther’s computer station, however, without becoming the subject of a short video! Anne Coddington, who leads Social Media for Military Images magazine, was walking around the Civil War room on the lookout for a story. She overheard Kurt and me talking about my relative and of the uncanny luck in the Virginia Tech’s data base holding not one but two photos of Major Grant.

https://www.facebook.com/militaryimages/videos/566446857292885

Author Stephen Grant speaks of his great-grandfather, Union Major in the Civil War and
Professor Kurt Luther about his website, www.civilwarphotosleuth.com

My family saved significant documents from Hiram Grant’s Civil War service:

One: 7/17/1863 letter to his parents in Putnam CT from Hiram Lewis Grant on Morris Island, SC. Dimensions: 9 3/4 x 19 7/8.

Two: Stamped envelope with 3-cent brown Washington 1861 Scott A25. Dimensions: 3 x 5 1/2.

Three: United States Sanitary Commission, Washington, D.C. Battle and Hospital Directory
ReturnAction at Morris Island July 18, 1863
Patient Hiram L. Grant, Sergt Co. A 6th C. V. Hosp no. 5, Beaufort, S.C.
Wound report 7/18/1863 Co A, Regt 6th Conn. Residence Putnam Conn.
Right flesh wound mid-thigh, conical ball, severely, ball extracted, doing well
C.M. Christy in charge of hospitalization.
Hospital #5 Beaufort, S.C. Sanitary Commission, Beaufort, S.C. Dimensions: 4 7/8 x 7 5/8

Four: Hiram Lewis Grant’s Diagram: The Execution of Prisoners. Dimensions: 6 x 7 5/8.

After consultation with my family, on Oct. 19, 2021, I made a donation of the above-cited four documents to the Wayne County Public Library in Goldsboro, NC in memory of Marty Tschetter (1970–2021), Local History Librarian. I first called Marty on May 2, 2019 to ask about my great-grandfather. He surprised and pleased me by saying he had been collecting information on Hiram Grant because of the prominent role he played as a Goldsboro business leader and philanthropist. He sent me many photos (especially on the brick houses Grant lived in or built about town) and articles which I shared with other Grants. On May 1, 2020, just a year later, Marty sent me his last email, announcing he had been diagnosed with advanced cancer. He had been planning a trip to Washington, DC with a friend to visit the National Archives and we had been looking forward to meeting.

Fig. 9. Hiram L. Grant letter from Morris Is., SC to his parents in Putnam CT, July 17, 1863

Fig. 10. Grant envelope (front) from Morris Is., SC to his parents in Putnam CT, July 17, 1863

Fig. 11. Grant envelope (back) from Morris Is., SC to his parents in Putnam CT, July 17, 1863

Fig. 12. Our Family Heritage, the Grant Family. Page 167
Envelope sent to Mrs. John S. D. Grant, Putney, Conn.
Hiram Grant letter to his parents from Morris Is., SC July 17, 1863, part 1

I expected to find on this envelope a postmark with a date a few days after the letter was written, July 17, 1863. The postmark was Dec. 12, 1863, just short of five months. The provenance was Port Royal, S.C., 83 miles to the west of Morris Island. I hope a specialist in postal history could suggest likely reasons for the long delay.

Hiram notably writes in the penultimate paragraph, “we have to resort to secesh paper.” Wouldn’t the second and third paragraphs contain information that could qualify as military secrets?

Fig. 13. Our Family Heritage, the Grant Family. Page 168
Hiram Grant letter to his parents from Morris Is., SC July 17, 1863, part 2

The fourth paragraph announces that a fellow soldier from Putnam has died. The fifth paragraph reveals that Hiram’s parents were able to send not only letters but packages; in this instance, a watch and chain. I assume that books have been written about the postal service during wartime. The paragraph ends with reference to “some stamps.” I know for a fact that my grandfather John Grant was a stamp collector, because in about 1950 his stamp collection was passed on to my father. Hiram’s father, who died on Aug. 8, 1890, would have been alive when the first U.S. postage stamp was issued in 1840. The sixth paragraph, the longest, evokes, with some banter, marital news from Putnam, friends tying the knot. We learn that Hiram had not yet married. The last paragraph makes it clear that while Hiram is writing from Morris Island, his knapsack is on Folly Island, a seven-square-mile barrier island in the Atlantic Ocean used as a staging area for Union troops before the battles of Fort Wagner. One request in this final paragraph appears quite poignant, although obscure: “I hope you will excuse the person that I am.” I don’t consider the closing of “Your Hiram of Old” a usual saying uttered by a youth of 20. Perhaps it is to reassure the faraway parents that their son is still the same despite fighting in a war to keep the nation together.

Fig. 14. Our Family Heritage, the Grant Family. Page 169
Hiram L. Grant Wound Report, Morris Is. SC, July 18, 1863

On July 18, 1863, the day after he had written the long letter to his parents, Sargent Hiram Grant of Co. A, Regiment 1 of the 6th Conn. Volunteer infantry suffered a flesh wound to the right thigh by a conical ball that was extracted. The patient was severely wounded but doing well. He was hospitalized in Beaufort, South Carolina. G. M. Christy was in charge of filing the wound report with the U.S. Sanitary Commission in Washington, D.C.

Fig. 15. Our Family Heritage, the Grant Family. Page 169
Hiram L. Grant Wound Report (back), Morris Is. SC, July 18, 1863

Fig. 16. Our Family Heritage, the Grant Family. Page 170
Hiram Grant’s diagram: the execution of prisoners

Fig. 17. Our Family Heritage, the Grant Family. Page 171
Hiram Grant’s Notation on the Diagram

Note: Figs. 12–17 are pp 167–171 reproduced from Our Family Heritage: The Hart, Hincks, Welles, Waller, Hawley, and Grant Families by Cornelia Ann Grant Nichols and used with consent.

While I await with much anticipation to read what Civil War historians might comment on Hiram’s Execution of Prisoners diagram, I am immediately drawn to the intriguing line, “9th U.S. Colored Troops.” Kurt Luther had told me on a phone call on Mar. 21, 2022 that 180,000 Colored Troops (CT) fought in the Civil War and that the Virginia Tech data base includes 200 photos of CTs. On Mar. 13, 2022, Paul Bucar told me that CTs were assigned mainly to infantry and artillery.

Also on Mar. 13, 2022, in the Photography room, I met Craig James, an African-American lawyer from North Carolina, who is a collector and seller of old photographs of black subjects: daguerreotypes, ambrotypes, tintypes, cabinet cards and cartes de visite (CDVs). He had a stand with many examples of his old framed photos, from his personal collection and for sale. Fig. 18. is the first photo I have ever seen of an African American Civil War soldier. Fig. 19 is the back cover of his book entitled, The Unfolding of Negro History through the Eye of a Lens.

Fig. 18.
Photograph of a Civil War Union soldier from the collection of Craig James, used by permission

Fig. 19.
The Unfolding of Negro History through the Eye of a Lens by Craig James

Fig. 20.
R. A. Watts Jewelry Store at the far right

Fig. 21.
Receipt from H. L. Grant, Mar. 21, 188-, Odd Fellows Neuse Lodge #6 Papers, and envelope

Fig. 22.
Thank-you note from Kelsey Chandler, Wayne County History Librarian, Nov. 8, 2021

I appreciated receiving a thank-you note from Kelsey Chandler on Nov. 8, 2021 for my donation of Hiram L. Grant documents. It was especially touching to see that the Wayne County Public Library had transformed a receipt from the H. L. Grant’s Goldsboro Brick and Tile Words into thank-you notepaper.

I quote from the Goldsboro Daily Argus of Mar. 8, 1922: “At the conclusion of hostilities Maj. Grant whom that event [the Civil War] found with his command in Goldsboro, decided to make this city his home, having learned to love the south, and in the summer of 1865 he opened a jewelry business here in co-partnership with the late R. A. Watts, a Virginian, an intrepid Confederate Soldier who served under Lee and who, like Maj. Grant, found himself at the surrender in Goldsboro, a prisoner of war.”

What? Grant from North and Watts from South both became prisoners at the end of the war? How did that happen? Were they included in a prisoner-of-war exchange? What does the record tell us?

A Union and a Confederate soldier met and formed a partnership to set up and run a jewelry store in Goldsboro? They did? How did that happen? Who knew? I am flabbergasted. Elusive material at this point for a short story, novel, or movie. Did any Goldsboro investigative reporters learn about the Grant/Watts gig and put pen to paper?

I learned from R. A. Watts’ obituary (he died in 1912, ten years before Hiram Grant) that as early as 1858 (when Hiram was 15) Watts had traveled through Goldsboro as a salesman. Consequently, Watts would have been the senior partner in the jewelry business.

The End or maybe the Beginning.

Hiram L. Grant Bio

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Peter Strickland Book Launch at DACOR BACON HOUSE, 2007

by Stephen H. Grant | Mar 28, 2022 | Africa, Biography, Books, Collecting, Consul, Consulate, Gorée, Nantucket, Peter Strickland, Strickland, USAID, Video, Washington D.C., West Africa

This post brings alive the launch of my first biography fifteen years ago, on Jan. 29, 2007. My son, Yonel, a transportation engineer, flew in from San Francisco and videotaped my introductory remarks from the podium. My daughter, Sylviane, who designed the book, took the bus from New York City. My sister came from Mass., my cousin from Maine. “Old Home Week” is what my mother would have called it. My father would have been floored. He worked forty-two years in the book publishing business in Boston. He died in 1978, thirteen years before the first of my five books saw the light of day.

I have been the protagonist of book launches in Guinea, Indonesia, El Salvador, and the U.S. I know of no more historic and elegant venue for a book launch than the DACOR BACON HOUSE at 1801 F Street, NW. It is one of the very few Federal-style homes left in Washington, DC.

Fig. 1. DACOR stands for Diplomatic and Consular Officers, Retired. It is a membership association of foreign affairs professionals. Bacon refers to the Bacon family, in particular to Virginia Bacon, the last resident of the house until her death in 1980, after which the private home transitioned to the offices of a foundation. The DACOR BACON HOUSE accommodates headquarters and programs of a 2,300-member organization.is. In 1999, William D. Calderhead and the DACOR BACON HOUSE Foundation published this 159-page history, of which this is the cover.

Fig. 2. A postcard depicting the dining room and drawing room of DACOR BACON HOUSE when it was a private home (1815–1980)

The Jan. 29, 2007 book launch held at DACOR featured the biography of Peter Strickland (1837–1921) of Connecticut, who became the first American Consul (1883–1905) to French West Africa with residence in Senegal

Fig. 3. Only known image of Sea Captain Peter Strickland (1837–1921), first U.S. Consul to Senegal (1883–1905)

Fig. 4. Book to be launched, the first biography of the first American Consul to Senegal

Fig. 5. Envelope I found in 1999 on eBay sent from Boston (where I was born) in 1889 to Consul Strickland in Gorée, West Africa

Fig. 6. Envelope from tobacco firm in Tennessee sent to Capt. Strickland in Gorée, West Africa in 1905

Fig. 7. Captain Strickland’s routes to West Africa from Boston, Mass. and New London, Conn.

Fig. 8. Captain Strickland’s territories visited in West Africa for commercial or consular missions

ADST stands for the Association for Diplomatic Studies and Training. It is a United States non-profit organization established in 1986 by retired Foreign Service officers. It produces and shares oral histories by American diplomats and facilitates the publication of books about diplomacy by diplomats and others. Its Foreign Affairs Oral History program has recorded over 2,500 oral histories and continues to grow; its book series includes over 100 books. ADST is located on the campus of the Foreign Service Institute in Arlington, Virginia. Since 1995, DACOR has partnered with ADST to sponsor the publication of books crowned by a book launch on DACOR’s historic second floor.

A year before the book launch––on Jan. 31, 2006––ADST staff wrote an abstract of the Peter Strickland manuscript:

Stephen Grant’s biography of New Englander Capt. Peter Strickland (1837–1921) is based on original documents, consular dispatches, ship’s logs, over 2000 letters researched in Massachusetts, Connecticut, Delaware, Maryland, and Senegal from 2000 to 2006. After teaching school in New London, Connecticut, Strickland left his farming family in 1852 and embarked on merchant voyages along the east coast and to the Caribbean, South America, and Europe. By his early twenties, he had become shipmaster and agent for Boston shipowners.

In a book Strickland published in 1873, A Voice from the Deep, which Grant cites, he lamented the difficult life sailors led, exploited by shipowners and officers, shipping agents, boarding masters, and consuls. He argued unsuccessfully for a federal subsidy for sailors, who risked their lives to provide better off Americans with needed and exotic imported goods.

In 1883, Strickland accepted a State Department proposal that he open the first U.S. consulate in French West Africa, in the colony of Senegal. The captain would not receive a salary but could keep fees charged American vessels visiting Senegalese ports and continue to practice his import-export trade. He established his consulate and residence on the former slave island of Gorée, where he lived until he resigned from the consular service in 1905. He retired to Dorchester, Massachusetts, and the life of a gentleman farmer. He and his wife had four children; none married, and the family line died out.

During his long stint as consul, Strickland recorded the cargoes unloaded and loaded by the 78 American sailing vessels that voyaged from New England to Senegal. The main U.S. export was leaf tobacco from Tennessee and Kentucky, followed by wood products from New England. Blocks of ice from the Kennebec River wrapped in sawdust were shipped across the Atlantic to be used for refrigeration in Africa. Peanuts from Senegal constituted the main West African import into New England, followed by animal skins and gum products. In Capt. Strickland’s first voyage to Senegal in 1864, the skins he brought to Boston were made into shoes worn by Union soldiers.

Strickland’s life and writings are significant for several reasons. He provided the only American record of consular duties and the decline of American trade in francophone West Africa over the period 1880–1905. A conscientious and religious self-made man, he taught school, published a book on behalf of sailors, crossed the Atlantic 100 times, and survived epidemics of yellow fever and cholera in Africa. In an amazing feat, he wrote a daily journal rich in entries from age 19 to 83.

Grant’s 60,000-word book recounts the man’s life chronologically. In addition to 280 endnotes, the work contains numerous illustrations, including old picture postcards, envelopes written to Strickland in Africa, letters Strickland wrote found in the Senegalese archives, drawings Strickland made of sailing vessels, and a photo of President Clinton visiting the former U.S. Consulate on Gorée to commemorate the earliest American-Senegalese relations.

Fig. 9. DACOR’s three chandeliers––first gaslit, then handlit––were made in Philadelphia around 1840

Fig. 10. Anne Kauzlarich, DACOR Executive Assistant, welcomes Fatou Kader and Cheik Cissé. Fatou was Librarian at USAID/Dakar and Cheik, her husband.

Fig. 11. Anne Kauzlarich greets Steve Lauterbach and his wife, Marie-Paule Lauterbach. Steve was a Public Affairs officer; Marie-Paule a French teacher at FSI.

Fig. 12. On Anne’s right is Gordon Thompson; on her left, Colin Boocock. Gordon’s wife Margery Thompson is Publications Director at ADST. Colin was a specialist in mining and environmental management.

Fig. 13. As host, the DACOR President––here the late Michael Ely––introduced Kenneth L. Brown, ADST President, who introduced the speaker

Fig. 14. Author Stephen Grant spoke from the podium. His son Yonel filmed the event. Behind the speaker is an English giltwood mirror built around 1760. On Yonel’s left is Lucien Moreau, a World Bank economist.

Fig. 15. Steve Honley, Editor of the Foreign Service Journal

Fig. 16. DACOR Executive Director, Richard McKee, converses with Catherine Lincoln

Fig. 17. Author conversing with Diane Bodeen, Choral Director and wife of former Public Affairs officer, Virgil Bodeen. In the middle is Anna Lawton, Publisher of New Academia Publishing that published Peter Strickland. On Anna’s left is Dane Smith, former Ambassador to Guinea and then to Senegal.

Fig. 18. Veda Engel, former Foreign Service officer, is speaking with John Pielemeier, former USAID Mission Director. In the middle is Margery Thompson, ADST Publications Director.

Fig. 19. On the far right, Journalist, Author, and Activist Sam Smith

Fig. 20. Former Ambassador to Sierra Leone, the late Arthur Lewis, and Jay Silberg, Attorney

Fig. 21. Architect Robert Schwartz and his wife, Carol Schwartz, Property Manager

Fig. 22. The late Anthropologist Marilyn Merritt served as a Docent in the DACOR BACON HOUSE

Fig. 23. Fatou Kader was USAID Librarian in Dakar, Senegal, attending with her daughter Jamila

Fig. 24. Cheik Cissé, a friend from Senegal, congratulates the author

Fig. 25. Former USAID Mission Director Sam Rea greets Ambassador Abdoulaye Diop from Mali, who went on to become Malian Minister of Foreign Affairs

Fig. 26. The author’s sister Corie, cousin Priscilla, and daughter Sylviane Grant

Fig. 27. Graphic designer Sylviane designed the cover of the Strickland biography; her brother, a transportation engineer, was launch videographer

Fig. 28. Abigail Wiebenson––the author’s partner––was longtime head of the independent Lowell School in Washington, DC

Fig. 29. ADST Business Manager Marilyn Bentley with the help of interns sells and takes orders for the featured book

Fig. 30. Joyce Leader––former Ambassador to Guinea––in 2020 published From Hope to Horror about the Rwanda genocide

Fig. 31. Bintou Condé of the Embassy of Guinea in Washington, DC

At an ADST/DACOR book launch, the author is introduced and says a few words before opening up the discussion for questions or comments. Among my comments were these:

“At the outset of my research before writing the first biography of Peter Strickland, I had the notion that he might have set some record being a consul for over 23 years in one post. These days such longevity would be unconceivable. Far from it. The Office of the Historian of the State Dept set me straight: Horatio Jones Sprague served as consul to Gibraltar from 1848 until 1901: 53 years.”

“Strickland wrote a total of 272 dispatches to Washington. They are all available at the National Archives and you can order them on microfilm as I did 6 years ago when I was working for USAID in El Salvador and began my research for this book.”

“At age 19, Strickland started a daily journal. His last entry was at age 83. Please raise your hand if you know of someone else who kept a diary for 64 years.”

“I want to read you one brief diary entry from 1864. Strickland was 27 years old. ’One month ago today I left my home in New London to go I then knew not whither but I now find it was for Africa. It does not seem so long but time in certain circumstances flies very quickly. To look ahead, a lifetime seems a long period and in some cases it may no doubt seem long. But if I am permitted to live to old age, and look back on my lifetime as I do now and in the same light I shall no doubt think it has been short. I shall think how “like a hurried dream” it has all been.’”

At this point in the proceedings, I thanked a few people; my children, Sylviane and Yonel Grant. Then Anna Lawton, Publisher, New Academia Publishing; and Marilyn Bentley, ADST Business Manager. Finally, ADST Publications Director, Margery Thompson, for “her expert guidance of authors through the publication process.”

Peter Strickland Book Launch at DACOR BACON HOUSE

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Old Picture Postcards from Guinea in West Africa

by Stephen H. Grant | Mar 18, 2022 | Africa, Deltiology, Exhibit, Guinée/Guinea, Interview, Postcards, USAID, West Africa

As I write this blog post in March, 2022, the world is riveted on Ukraine’s struggle to protect itself against an invasion from its much larger neighbor, Russia. 1991 started out in a deadly and frightening fashion also. On Jan. 17, 1991, in Operation Desert Storm, the United States started bombing including the capital Baghdad to destroy Iraki air defenses after Iraq had invaded its much smaller neighbor, Kuweit, on Aug. 2.

In 2022 I am sitting in Arlington, Virginia in retirement. From 1990 to 1992 I was working in Conakry, the capital of Guinea in West Africa, for the U. S. Agency for International Development (USAID) as a Foreign Service officer in the field of education and training. Here are a few current statistics about Guinea from World Bank sources: Life expectancy 59/62; adult literacy rate 32%; political stability rank #145; Muslim population 85%. Guinea is a former French colony, independent since 1958. The U. S. State Department ranks Guinea as a “hardship post” for the officers it assigns to serve there.

Fig. 1 Map of Guinea

As a Foreign Service officer, when I learn of an assignment to a foreign post, the first thing I do is look at an atlas to see where the country is located. The next three things I do are to (often buy and) read books on the country, buy a good map (Institut national de l’information géographique et forestière––IGN), and start to purchase picture postcards of the country. These steps constitute for me an investment; they will assure I have a fundamental understanding of the history, geography, politics, culture, religions, natural resources, and developmental challenges. USAID would not send me on long-term assignment to Guinea without assuring that I had qualifications to speak and read French. In this case, I had earned a master’s degree in French by studying at the Sorbonne in Paris. Oh, and I married a French woman.

Some of you might well wonder about the highly unusual “postcard” feature of my country preparation. My father brought up his (two) children as stamp collectors. There is a word for those who practice this hobby, philately. Studying postage stamps gives one extraordinary knowledge about countries all over the world. We learn to recognize kings, queens, presidents, inventors, artists, aviators, and artists. We learn about currencies. We notice the year when a country changes from being a colony to being independent. When a country is occupied, special marks on printed on their postage stamps. I stopped being a philatelist the year all my carefully filled stamp albums were stolen when I was away at college.

But it was too late. I was bitten by the collecting bug. That’s the way it goes. Not right away, but at age 40 in a mid-life crisis, I started to collect picture postcards. With postcards, you get not only a stamp (if the card was sent through the mail); you get a cancellation or postmark, you get a picture, and finally you get a message. Before you know it, you are practicing deltiology and have become a deltiologist (from the Greek meaning writing tablet).

Where did I find 200 old picture postcards of Guinea in two days before I ever landed in Conakry airport, you may ask? By scouring Parisian postcard boutiques and flea markets. It’s a cinch if you have the moulah and a nose. The mistake I made at Charles de Gaulle airport was stuffing my weighty backpack under my seat in the waiting room to take a last-minute tour around duty-free shops before my flight was called. Some passenger nearby spotted the act and called security. When I returned and bent over to retrieve the backpack it was GONE!! Panic! Missed heartbeat! I sputtered my frenzy to an airport official; he quickly led me down to the bowels of the airport to a zone where I saw a mountain of suitcases and bags that looked like the Cheops Pyramid. THERE was my backpack on the side. It had not been exploded. Whew!

One of my first calls when I arrived in Conakry in the late summer of 1990 was on the Public Affairs Officer of the American Embassy to show her my stash of Guinea postcards to see if she would agree to mount an exhibit. I reminded her that it was the centennial of the French colony’s being established. It was called “Guinée française.” She demurred, saying that these were French postcards and the U.S. Information Service did not have suitable display space. She dismissed me with a “Go see the French.” On the spot. The director of the French-Guinean Cultural Center dropped his jaw. “We’ve been trying to get Paris Quai d’Orsay to send us materials for a centennial exhibit and they’ve sent zilch. You walk in off the street and we now have plenty to organize an exhibit that will attract loads of visitors. Thank you!”

Fast forward to January 1991, the month I would turn 50. Since Guinea was a predominantly Muslim country and the U.S. was bombing another Muslim country, The State Department feared the possibility of violence against Americans. We were told to vary our times and routes to work, be vigilant, participate in frequent radio checks, and not congregate more than five Americans together. An unexpected advantage of a bilingual family, my half-century was celebrated among French friends. On Feb, 28, 1991, President George H. W. Bush declared a ceasefire, accepted by Iraq on Mar. 3.

Here is a five-minute YouTube video of the opening of the exhibit later the same month, on Mar. 25. Intense excitement reigned when Guinean visitors discovered on the wall 75-year-old picture postcards of their country! Radio and TV journalists listened spell-bound as specialists interpreted what they were seeing. Over 1700 people attended the exhibit, including cabinet Ministers in the government, civil servants, expatriate advisors and project directors, plus busloads of schoolchildren. The novelty to scrutinize old photographs from colonial times was enhanced by spontaneous commentary by the late Emile Tom Papa, journalist and chronicler, who wrote a regular column in the local newspapers on “Old Conakry.”

5min video:

The exhibit attracted not only Guineans, but French and Americans and members of the international expatriate community eager to sop up an unsuspectedly rich cultural experience. One person among the 1700 who visited the exhibit over its three-week duration was particularly struck by what he saw. His name was Hubert Beemelmans, the German Ambassador. He came up to me during the opening and asked, “Mr. Grant, do you have the intention of making a book out of this exhibit?” What?

The story of how the book IMAGES DE GUINEE came into being was scooped up by the Smithsonian Institution in 2021 and turned into a blog post.

Smithsonian blog post :

Living Documents and Historic Postcards of Guinea

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Book Launch of
Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards

by Stephen H. Grant | Jan 27, 2022 | Books, Collecting, Consulate, Culture, Deltiology, El Salvador, Exhibit, Postcards

People of my generation remember where they were when they heard of JFK’s assassination and of the 9/11 attacks. Few recall where they were the day Y2K occurred.

While the last month of 1999 will be remembered by some computer operators for their premonitions of possible worldwide calamity, Dec. 1 for me was a Day of Euphoria. I was living in San Salvador, El Salvador, the fourth year of my last overseas diplomatic assignment for USAID (The U. S. Agency for International Development) before returning to Washington, DC. My stars had lined up so that a once-in-a-lifetime cultural gathering in a brand-new Anthropology Museum in Central America would fling open its doors to celebrate a five-pound bilingual richly illustrated coffee-table book that became one of the most striking deltiological books ever produced. Deltiology is the collection and study of picture postcards.

Image 1. Front Cover, Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards

The French have a proverb: Jamais deux sans trois, or “Good things come in threes.” It was my third (and as it turned out the last) postcard book. The first was published in Guinea, in francophone Africa. The second in Indonesia, in Southeast Asia. In realizing this ultimate deltiological effort, I could lean on experience, correct errors, and forge new avenues of inquiry and discovery. “For the people who ask me what I write, I simply say: the drive to leave something of note behind,” from the Introduction to Postales.

Image 2. Contents, Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards

The first section of Postales from the introduction lays out the nitty-gritty of postcard collecting. The second addresses Salvadoran postcards in particular, postal and shipping information, related early photography in El Salvador, the methodology to learn about Salvadoran postcards, and a statistical presentation of 100 postcards. The third section introduces the major producers or distributors of Salvadoran postcards: De Sola, Hecht, Hellebuyck, Huber, Mugdan, Noltenius, Rank, Recinos, and Salazar. The main body of the bilingual text is devoted to a larger-than-life photo of the postcard with detailed documentary description. Conclusions and annexes follow.

Image 3. Copyright Page, Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards

The Copyright Page gives credit where credit is due:
Publisher and Sponsor: Fundación María Escalón de Núñez
Sponsor: Banco Cuscatlán
General Coordination: Stephen Grant, Gustavo Herodier
Historical Research: Gustavo Herodier and Carlos Cañas-Dinarte
Translation: Marilú de Mendoza, Dorita E. de Gutiérrez
Reading and Correction : Sarah Genton, Mario Noel Rodríguez
Graphic design and pre-printing production: Saga Creativa
Printing: Artes Gráficas Publicitarias

Image 4. Colophon Page, Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards

This book was conceived, developed, designed, and printed in San Salvador, El Salvador, Central America
First edition: 3,000 copies.

Image 5. Back Cover, Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards

The Back Cover of Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards features book praise by Pedro Antonio Escalante Arce, Secretary, Salvadoran Academy of History; Gustavo Herodier, Author El Esplendor de una Ciudad, 1880–1930; and Martha E. McPhail, Librarian, San Diego State University, California.

Image 6. Praise for Postales from Pedro Antonio Escalante Arce, Secretary,
Salvadoran Academy of History

Image 7. Praise for Postales from Gustavo Herodier,
Author El Esplendor de una Ciudad, 1880–1930

Image 8. Praise for Postales from Martha E. McPhail, Librarian,
San Diego State University, California

Image 9. Press Release (English) for Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards,
Dec. 1, 1999 in San Salvador

THE BOOK

200 Salvadoran picture postcards from the period 1900-1950 are reproduced in color, with extensive commentary on 100. Typical scenes include early public buildings; streets and squares in the capital; ports and markets; hotels and lakes; groups of Indians. The book contains biographies of men responsible for the photography, production, and distribution of postcards. The author explains how one builds a collection and the methodology he used to investigate Salvadoran history to make the old postcards come alive today. Early Salvadoran Postcards is one of the first extensive studies published on the old postcards of a Latin American country. The book was conceptualized, researched, developed, designed, and printed in El Salvador. The financial sponsors were Banco Cuscatlán and the María Escalón de Núñez Foundation.

THE AUTHOR

Stephen H. Grant is an internationally acclaimed author who has written about old picture postcards in Africa, Asia, the Middle East, and Latin America. Grant started collecting picture postcards when on assignment to Ivory Coast, in West Africa, in the early 1980s. Since, he has published books and articles on the old postcards of Egypt, Guinea, Indonesia, and El Salvador. Through his publications and exhibits, Grant has opened the eyes of thousands of readers to the magic of postcards, as unsuspectedly rich historical testimony of bygone eras.

Image 10. Press Release (Spanish) for Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards,
Dec. 1, 1999 in San Salvador

Image 11. Patricia Suncín de Jovel, Banco Cuscatlan (Moderator) introduces the speakers

At the book launch on Dec. 1, 1999 at the Museo Nacional de Antropología Dr. David J. Guzman, San Salvador, Patricia Suncín de Jovel, Banco Cuscatlan (Moderator) introduces the speakers from left to right:
Stephen Grant, Author;
Gustavo Herodier, Vice-President, María Escalón de Núñez Foundation;
Anne Patterson, U.S. Ambassador to El Salvador;
Mauricio Samayoa, President, Banco Cuscatlan;
Patricia Escalon de Herodier, President, María Escalón de Núñez Foundation;
Pedro Antonio Escalante Arce, Secretary, Salvadoran Academy of History.

Image 12. Presenting Postales book to Carlos Quintanilla Schmidt, Vice-President of the Republic of El Salvador,
at the Casa Presidencial

It was my honor and pleasure to present copies of the book to Carlos Quintanilla Schmidt,
Vice-President of the Republic of El Salvador, at the Casa Presidencial.

Image 13. Letter of Gratitude to Author from Carlos Quintanilla Schmidt,
Vice-President of the Republic of El Salvador, page 1.

Image 14. Letter of Gratitude to Author from Carlos Quintanilla Schmidt,
Vice-President of the Republic of El Salvador, page 2.

Image 15. Francisco Allwood of Punto Literario bookstore in San Salvador displays Postales

Seeing one’s book in a local bookstore is a huge thrill. Francisco Allwood of Punto Literario in San Salvador places Postales in the middle of the central display area.

Image 16. In Gift Shop at Centro Comercial Galerias in San Salvador, Postales is surrounded by famous neighbors:
Renoir, Cezanne, Gauguin, St. Exupery!

What could be more humbling than finding one’s literary creation in the Centro Comercial Galerias gift shop in San Salvador side-by-side with the literary or artistic creations of Renoir, Cezanne, Gauguin, and St. Exupery?

Image 17. Presenting Postales book to Brady Anderson, USAID Administrator,
during a visit to USAID, San Salvador

It was my honor and pleasure to present a copy of Postales to Brady Anderson, the USAID Administrator, during a visit to USAID, San Salvador.

Before the new millennium had dawned, I was encouraged by acclaim. A New York book publisher wrote, “Your publishers did a wonderful job with the production. The images are crisp, color lush, and the text set nicely.”

A Michigan postcard dealer penned, “The quality of the reproduction of the postcards is the best I have ever seen in any postcard book. I just love the way they all have a tiny shadow underneath, making them three-dimensional, and which makes it seem like you can almost reach out and pick them up off the page, they look so real.”

A Harvard librarian shared, “What is apparent so far is how clever a conjunction of purposes you are serving––converting a hobby into a tool to promote national pride and historic awareness, and providing a handy way to view a select portion of your own collection, just to name two.”

Finally an Illinois museum boasting the largest public collection of postcards and related materials in the United States, “Imagine the surprise and delight of the Teich Archives staff when your beautiful book arrived yesterday. It is truly unlike any other publication on postcards we currently own. It is beautifully crafted and printed and will be an excellent addition to the Museum’s reference library. Pound for pound I think it must be the largest book on postcards ever printed.”

Share the interest and excitement of a book launch, reception, and book signing for Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards in a Salvadoran Museum
at the end of the 20th century

From his retirement in Arlington, Virginia at the start of the 21st century, author and deltiologist Stephen Grant reflects on the magic of postcards as unsuspectedly rich testimony of bygone eras

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President Senghor’s Anniversary

by Stephen H. Grant | Dec 18, 2021 | Africa, Biography, Culture, Senegal, West Africa

On the occasion of the 20th anniversary of Senegalese President Léopold Senghor’s death, on December 7, 2021 Yves Thréard wrote an article in Le Figaro entitled “Il y a vingt ans, disparaissait Léopold Sédar Senghor, un intellectuel aux antipodes de la ‘cancel culture.’” The author points out that President Senghor showed an equal appetite for politics as for literature. Senghor was admired for his powers of reflection and the dimension of his visions. He was the first African head of state to step down from power on his own. After serving for 20 years as the first president of Senegal after decades of colonial rule by France, Senghor groomed his successor who also served for 20 years, producing a rare example of stability. The father of his country was a pillar of democracy. He was a Roman Catholic in a country of Islamic majority. For many years he traveled to the world’s political hot spots as a member of the “Council of Sages” to try to help stymied leaders solve complex political issues. Today it is thought his presence would have been useful to share his perspectives on the practice of “counter-culture” and the phenomenon of “wokism.” Senghor was the first black man to be elected to the French Academy (Académie Française); he was an assiduous participant in the Wednesday sessions to advance the development of the Academy’s dictionary. “Le wokisme” might well have been on the agenda for a robust debate.

This post is a brief addendum to a more substantive blog post on President Senghor released on July 16, 2020 and entitled, “Interviewing President Senghor.” Léopold Sédar Senghor was elected in 1960 as the first president of the Republic of Senegal in West Africa after independence from France, serving in that capacity for 20 years. Known as the “poet-president,” he championed the cultural richness and diversity of the African continent. When Senghor died at the age of 95 in 2001, French President Jacques Chirac called him “one of the greatest contemporary humanist figures. Poetry has lost a master, Senegal a statesman, Africa a visionary, and France a friend.” I was lucky to be invited to Senghor’s home in Dakar for an interview, and met with him subsequently in Cairo.” During the 20 years that I spent in Africa as a Peace Corps Volunteer, a UNESCO consultant, and a Foreign Service officer for USAID, I viewed President Senghor as a towering figure, who was astoundingly generous with his time when I sought to approach him.”

Here are the six questions I asked President Senghor (in French):

One. It is said, Mr. President, that you do not miss being in power; you prepare lectures, write, and travel extensively. One can imagine that relieved of many constraints, you are occupied with projects that you had placed on the back burner during your presidency. Is that an accurate portrait?

Two. You have recently been elected to the French Academy, a high honor by which France has recognized your personal merit. Through it, you as well as the African continent and black Francophone literature are honored. What contribution do you hope to make to this institution?

Three. You have said that the greatest civilizations are “crossbred.” Can you provide concrete examples of what you mean by this term?

Four. Adopting biological and cultural crossbreeding as an intellectual theory is one thing, but are there also practical political applications? For instance, do you believe that understanding and appreciating other civilizations can increase the chances for conflict resolution among nations?

Five. Besides your writings, are there other channels through which you can promote cultural crossbreeding as a means of approaching “universal civilization?”

Six. What influence would you like to exert on the younger generation?

Read the Interview on ” AFRICA REPORT, NOV-DEC, 1983″ Issue

President Senghor is the perfect subject to interview. You push a button and he expounds at length in beautifully crafted sentences. Photo by Papa Diaw

Behind the President in this 1983 interview held in his Dakar, Senegal home is a photo of son Philippe Senghor who died in a traffic accident at age 23. Photo by Papa Diaw

This was not the only presidential interview of my career. In 1973 I interviewed General Sangoulé Lamizana, President of Upper Volta (now Burkina Faso) in the spartan camp militaire where he preferred to live rather than in the lavish presidential palace in Ouagadougou. Both interviews were published in Africa Report. Photo by Papa Diaw

Many famous people cannot be bothered by inscribing their books, or they dash off an illegible signature. President Senghor takes out his own fountain pen with blue ink and carefully pens a thoughtful message. Photo by Papa Diaw

Madame Annick Grant taught French and African Literature in Egypt, Ivory Coast, Guinea, Indonesia, and El Salvador. She caught up with President Senghor in Cairo, where she questioned him about Chaka, a dramatic poem from the volume, “Ethiopiques” (1956). Photo by Stephen Grant

Léopold Sédar Senghor obituary from Washington Post, Dec. 21, 2001.

Senghor inscribed his one-volume edition of poetry to Monsieur et Madame Steve Grant in July, 1982.

I am most fortunate to have conducted a modest epistolary exchange with President Senghor. This August, 1982 letter was numbered (1368) and sent from Verson in Normandy where his wife Colette hails from. In it, Senghor reveals that even at age 77 he carries out a demanding travel schedule; I did not expect him to apologize for a tardy reply. In addition, I was flabbergasted when “the African sage” offered me the formula to obtain an audience: cable him between Dec. 15 and Mar. 15. The scheme worked.

1964 was a big year for Léopold Sédar Senghor on the literary side. A major French publishing firm, Editions du Seuil, in Paris, published in stunning red-cloth binding a 254-page volume of Senghor’s poems. I am somewhat of a book collector, and possess three copies which I have displayed on three pillow covers (made by El Hadj Tall) that I purchased in Dakar: a first edition numbered 2745; a fourth edition numbered 8674, and a seventh edition numbered 18034.

My copy of the seventh edition is inscribed to M. Robert Wade. At some point he or his heirs gave it up, and I purchased the copy at a Book Fair in the U. S. State Department where I worked as a volunteer and manned the “Authors’ Table.” Have you ever wondered about the nicknames famous people acquire? You can see in image 10 that Senghor signs the book, “Léo.” Then, keep in mind what Georges Pompidou called L. S. Senghor while they were classmates in a grande école in Paris and before they both were elected presidents of their respective nations, “Ngor.” Here are two nicknames: Léo and Ngor. Who knew?

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Henry Clay Folger and Emily Jordan Folger receive honorary degrees from Amherst College

by Stephen H. Grant | Nov 27, 2021 | Amherst, Biography, Books, Collecting, Folger, Library, Literature, Shakespeare

One hundred and seven years ago, in 1914, Henry Folger received an honorary Doctorate of Letters from Amherst College. The citation read: “Henry Clay Folger, a graduate of this college in 1879, called to the bar in due course, called by ability, by character, by efficiency, integrity and the confidence of men in his judgment to the widest fields and the highest posts in leading and guiding the industrial development of the land; a collector of the largest assemblage yet known of the editions and the literature of the greatest dramatist, gathered with learning, watchful care and studious pains; owner of 49 copies of the first folio edition of the plays of Shakespeare, a priceless and unexampled field for comparative research. I ask you alike for his services in the affairs of a great empire of industry whose produce is on every sea and its light on all lands and for his knowledge in the most important field known in English literature to confer upon him the degree of Doctor of Letters.”

Emily Jordan Folger wearing her purple Amherst hood in the Folger reading room, 1932.
Emily gazes at 1927 portrait of her husband by British painter, Frank O. Salisbury.
Courtesy Folger Shakespeare Library

Another awardee at the ceremony was ex-President William Howard Taft, who received an honorary Doctor of Laws Degree. Who was observing the two eminent gentlemen enter the motor vehicle headed for a banquet following the exercises? Folger was five feet four and weighed 115 lbs. Taft was six feet tall and weighed 335 lbs. Inside, Dr. Taft leaned over and said mischievously to Dr. Folger, “Forty-nine Folios? We have the fiftieth at Yale.” Founder of the University’s Elizabethan Club, Yale alumnus Alexander S. Cochran donated to the Club a Shakespeare First Folio in 1911.

In picking Folger for an honorary degree, Amherst got it right. Folger had climbed to the top of two vastly different fields: the petroleum industry and Shakespeare collection. To have accomplished either one would have been a prodigious undertaking. By 1914, Folger was president of Standard Oil Company of New York, which later became Mobil Corporation. His Shakespeare collection then included forty-nine First Folios, all different in some way. Before he died in 1930, Folger had acquired eighty-two copies of the Bard’s 1623 collected dramatic works published posthumously in London.

Folger wrote Amherst trustee, Talcott Williams, “I wish to thank you from the bottom of my heart for this the greatest honor of my life.” He wrote his pastor, S. Parkes Cadman, “It was most unexpected, but the greatest possible honor. Amherst gives few degrees. You will be amused at the basis for conferring it; it was not all Shakespeare.” From Pocantico Hills, New York, came this tongue-in-cheek accolade: “I congratulate you upon receiving the degree, and that your connection with a great and useful business organization did not detract from your high standing,” signed John D. Rockefeller.

Henry Clay Folger died in 1930 without having seen a stone of the Folger Shakespeare Library built or his entire collection assembled in the nation’s capital across the street from the Library of Congress. His wife, Emily, took over the decision making responsibilities and was present to turn over the keys of the Library to the chairman of the Amherst trustees on Shakespeare’s 368th birthday, April 23, 1932.

Later that year, Amherst College bestowed on Emily a degree with this citation: “Emily Clara Jordan, graduate of Vassar College, through many years the enthusiastic, tireless, and discriminating companion of Henry Clay Folger in the collection of a unique library of the works of Shakespeare; generous benefactress of Amherst College and of the lovers of letters throughout the whole world; the degree which 18 years ago Amherst College appropriately bestowed upon your husband it now, with the same hood as symbol, confers upon you, as I create you a Doctor of Letters.” It was a triumphant yet bittersweet moment for Emily Jordan Folger.

(This post was originally published on Johns Hopkins University Press Blog on October 17, 2014)

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Enrico Massi, Italian aviator, dies giving a flying lesson in El Salvador, 1923

by Stephen H. Grant | Nov 14, 2021 | Biography, Collecting, Culture, Deltiology, El Salvador, Postcards, Travel

Fig. 1. Postcard of the fatal Enrico Massi plane crash on Oct. 4, 1923 near Ilopango Airport, El Salvador, Adolfo Villacorta Calderón, photographer. Upper right insert photo of Massi in Italy wearing his Italian army uniform covered by a leather jacket with lambskin lining.

Enrico Massi is an important enough figure in the history of El Salvador to have had a postage stamp issued in his name: in 1983 a ten-centavo stamp in the series “Salvadoran Air Force 50th Anniversary.” The series, featuring other Salvadoran flyers including Juan Ramón Munés (more below), came out fifty years after Massi’s tragic death.

Fig. 2. Salvadoran postage stamps issued in 1983 to honor aviators Enrico Massi and Juan Ramón Munés.

Massi was born in Naples, Italy in 1897. At the age of 20, his country was at war: he entered the Italian Army and was trained as a pilot. He flew several missions, first for surveillance and then as a fighter pilot. After the war from 1920 to 1922 he served the Italian Army as a test pilot, authorized to fly 29 different types of airplanes. After he left the army in 1922 he performed in acrobatic air shows in Italy, Turkey, and Greece. In October, 1922 Massi and his mechanic, Antonio Della Noce, sailed to Central America, where he flew in both Honduras and Nicaragua. In February, 1923 he met President-elect Dr. Alfonso Quiñónes Molina, who contracted Massi to be part of his Presidential Inauguration festivities. Massi arrived in San Salvador on Inauguration Day, March 1. 1923, and distributed from the air leaflets from the new president! Government officials were so impressed with him and with his flying skills that he was hired that month as an aviation instructor for the Salvadoran military.

Fig. 3. Photo of Enrico Massi in his Italian Air Force uniform during the First World War in front of his French bi-plane fighter aircraft, the Spad 13.

Massi also gave informal flying lessons in the “Field of Mars” (now “Children’s Park”) in San Salvador and performed acrobatics over another early air field near Soyapango at the Finca Venecia, belonging to the former President Jorge Meléndez. In one instance, Massi competed with another flyer, an American named Brown, to win $3,000 for the best acrobatic performance. One day, Massi landed on a football field in Santa Ana, and offered rides to intrepid bystanders. The cost for a short airplane ride over the city was five colones. Massi was contracted to release from the air publicity flyers for Jose Grimaldi’s store, “Londres y París.” On Sundays he flew to San Miguel to offer flights to several of its residents.

On October 4, 1923, Massi was giving a lesson in forced landings to a 20-year-old flying student, Juan Ramón Munés (1903–1968). They were flying over Ilopango airfield in a two-seated bi-plane, a French Caudron G.3. Munés was at the controls in the rear seat; Massi in the passenger seat in front. Once that day already Munés had succeeded in cutting off the motor, and landing. The second time, however, as the plane was gaining altitude, the motor conked out. Massi with the dual control tried to lift up the plane but failed. The wing and tail of the plane dipped and crashed into the ground. Ejected from the rear seat, Munés suffered a broken left arm, shoulder blade, and right leg, and was in hospital for months. Massi was caught in his seat and died instantly of cerebral concussion.

On the next day, October 5, the largest funeral in Salvadoran history was held since the funeral ten years before of assassinated President Dr. Manuel Enrique Araujo. Salvadoran and Italian flags draped the coffin, which was borne through the streets accompanied by a broken propeller. Again, the whole nation was in shock. This was the first aviation fatality in El Salvador.

On October 5, 1924, a year after the funeral, Juan Ramón Munés paid tribute by flying over the Central Cemetery in San Salvador, and releasing flowers over Massi’s tomb. This gesture became a ritual, which Munés faithfully performed annually until the pilot stopped flying in 1944. The fact that Massi died while giving a lesson is remembered on his epitaph, “En el santo apostolado de la enseñanza” (in the saintly mission of teaching”).

Fig. 4. Tomb of the Italian aviator Enrico Massi in the General Cemetery,
San Salvador, El Salvador, with credit to the Italian Benevolence Society.

Munés went on to become one of the most celebrated Salvadoran aviators. He had entered the school of Military Aviation in 1922, at age 19, and became its first graduate. He was a flying instructor at age 21, the first Salvadoran parachutist in 1925, and later was named director of the School of Military Aviation. He established flying records; for example, being the first aviator in Central America to fly at the altitude of 4300 meters. He also served as the president of the Salvadoran Club of Civil and Reserves Aviation from 1934 to 1940.

Juan Ramón Munés’s father Juan Munés (1875–1949) also had been a well-known figure in San Salvador. Trained as a horticulturalist in his native Barcelona, Spain, he immigrated to El Salvador, first working from 1895 to 1905 as director of the Model Farm in San Salvador. He designed gardens in Santa Ana, Suchitoto, and Zacatecoluca, and became gardener at the “Campo de Marte.”

Although Massi never married, he did have family in San Salvador. A younger brother, Alfredo Massi (1899–1981) was born in Italy, trained as a photographer, and immigrated to El Salvador in 1923, a few weeks after his brother Enrico. Through his Italian connections, he set up a partnership with Roberto Daglio. The firm, “Massi, Daglio, & Cie., Fotos” existed into the 1930s. Alfredo Massi became a cinematographer, and made the official film of the 1935 Central American Olympics held in San Salvador. Alfredo was the official photographer of the “Escuela Americana” from its inception in 1946 until 1962. He is buried next to his brother in San Salvador.

Fig. 5. Article, History of Enrico Massi 1923, written by his brother Alfredo A. Massi, San Salvador, 1980.

Fig. 6. Alfredo A. Massi epitaph added to Enrico Massi’s tomb. Photo by Stephen Grant

Text from Grant, Stephen, Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards. San Salvador, El Salvador: Fundación María Escalón de Núñez, 1999, 328 pp. Bilingual edition, pp 286–287.

P.S. When I lived in El Salvador from 1996 to 2000, I had telephone conversations with Enrico Massi’s nieces, Fiorella Massi de Parada and Lucia Massi in San Salvador. Lucia was General Manager of Systemas C&C S.A. de C.S. Lucia kindly sent me a six-page article about Enrico written in 1980 by her brother Alfredo Massi which formed the basis of the entry in Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards.

The Enrico Massi tomb is one of the most striking in the Central Cemetery of San Salvador. Suddenly you come upon an airplane on top of a tomb! You see an elevated vertical plinth barring raised metal letters of the family name Massi capped with a sculptured bi-plane. The front of the plinth is adorned with hand-carved marble entablatures engraved with the names, dates and inscription. A wing piece on the right shows the same with the addition of artisan-made ceramic tiles and floral coverings.

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Henry Clay Folger’s Deltiological Profile, Part II

by Stephen H. Grant | Oct 22, 2021 | Biography, Books, Collecting, Deltiology, Folger, Literature, Postcards, Shakespeare

Fig. 1 Picturesque Truckee River View on S.P.R.R.

We pick up from the series of picture postcards Henry Folger sent to his wife Emily in Brooklyn during his Standard Oil Company business trips to western states in 1910. The Truckee River flows northeasterly from California to Nevada. The sole outlet of Lake Tahoe, the river is an important source of irrigation for the region. The New York-based businessmen must have enjoyed the variety of scenery in the west. I wonder what Folger’s colleagues wrote home to their family and friends.

Fig. 2. Message and Address side of same postcard.

This is the second card we’ve seen published for Gray News Co. in Salt Lake City, Utah. No informative postmark tells us place, date, and hour of mailing. Only a halfhearted blotch. Notice the green Franklin one-cent stamp is a corner stamp on the sheet. Only two sides have perforations. And my oh my, after 7 postcards sent Emily with a total of 74 words in all, is Henry loquacious! “8 hours and 40 minutes late at Reno. Beautiful day and all very well after a good night. Hills white with snow. Ground covered with frost.” Twenty-six words and don’t let anybody else write on this card. Had Emily written back and commented, “Henry, you might have written a bit more”? Henry is concerned about respecting the schedule and sleeping well. This time he goes as far as to describe the scenery.

Fig. 3 “The Tehachapi Loop, California”

The Southern Pacific Railway began in 1865 with its first segment being San Francisco to San Diego. In 1876, Southern Pacific assistant chief engineer William Hood devised the ingenious method of 18 tunnels over 28 miles of track climbing down the Tehachapi Mountains to the San Joaquin Valley. One of the most difficult was the Great Tehachapi Loop. The switchback literally had the Southern Pacific train curve back on itself as it lost altitude.

Fig. 4. Message and Address side of same postcard

The first thing I noticed was the postmark showing that the card purchased in California was mailed in Texas on Nov. 26, 1910. “This is a good photo. We are traveling up to our schedule, expecting to be back Thursday morning. We cannot return as rapidly as we went out. All in fine health and spirits.” Emily would have been relieved to receive the favorable physical and moral health report. Thirty-three words and barely room for a squiggle. Henry would not want to divulge his name, or even initials.

Having examined a series of 9 picture postcards Folger purchased and sent through the mail, now we’ll turn to two postcards that Folger felt strongly he should acquire and keep in multiple copies.

Fig. 5a (left) Postcard of terracotta Shakespeare statuette by Roubiliac
Fig. 5b (right) Back of postcard of terracotta Shakespeare statuette by Roubiliac

Louis-Francois Roubiliac (1695–1762) was born in Lyon, France, but has been described by art historians as one of the most accomplished sculptor ever to work in London. For the full-size statue in marble of Shakespeare, originally placed in the British Museum, Roubiliac made two preliminary sketch models in terracotta. The terracotta sculpture (properly called a “statuette,” since it is smaller than life-sized) depicted in this postcard is in the Victoria & Albert Museum, and was created in 1757 (the Folger has the other one). The V&A Museum catalog record says: “The poet is represented at the moment of inspiration, his left hand, with forefinger extended, raised to his face, his right arm resting on a lectern. In his right hand is a pen (part missing). . . The head was probably taken from the earliest authenticated likeness of Shakespeare, the so-called Chandos portrait, of which Roubiliac had a copy.”

Note in the lower left of the postcard the serial number (A.17) we discussed earlier as being useful. Also note on the back of the postcard the number “4934,” written in pen, possibly at the Folger. I would need explanation by a Folger staffer, but I’ve seen four-digit numbers handwritten on many documents, especially on Henry Folger’s correspondence.

Fig. 6 Quaritch invoice noting Folger payment for 12 postcards.

On June 17, 1926, Bernard Quaritch Ltd. sends to Folger an invoice requesting payment of one shilling four pence for 12 postcards of the Roubiliac sculpture in the Victoria & Albert Museum. The bookseller’s accountant notes “with thanks” Folger’s payment received on July 31, 1927. I found one postcard of the Roubiliac sculpture in the V&A Museum in the Folger Archives Quaritch Jan-June 1926 folder that I photographed, but have no idea what Folger intended to do or did with the other 11 cards, or where they lie.

Henry Folger is enamored by Roubiliac statues of Shakespeare. From 1926 until the year of his death, 1930, he pursues and obtains (“secures” is the term he likes to employ) two such statues, the other terracotta model for the full-sized statue and the second a bust. The Rosenbach Museum & Library archives in Philadelphia contain correspondence regarding Folger’s terracotta sculpture that now resides in the Folger art vault. The statue has its own box, custom-made in 2003 when the sculpture traveled to the Louvre and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. In a Nov. 29, 1926 letter to (New York and Philadelphia) bookseller Rosenbach, Folger writes, “I have such limited information about the Roubilliac statuette to put away for future reference, now that the statuette is going into storage, it is surprising how soon one forgets details about even so important an item as this. All I have are your two telegrams and a photograph which you sent me. I want everything possible about the pedigree” (Rosenbach folder 1.63.02). Folger’s persistence in documenting fully all of his purchases leads to an immense “value added” of the Folger archives for scholars and researchers. A few years later, when a Roubiliac bust of Shakespeare is offered in a Sotheby’s sale in 1929, Folger confides to Rosenbach in a Nov. 8, 1929 letter, “I agree with you that it is desirable that we secure the bust, if we can, but I do not know on what basis to bid. May I leave that to your judgment? It is no. 54 in the Sotheby sale of Nov. 15” (Rosenbach folder 1.63.06). Henry secures the bust on Jan. 12, 1930 (Rosenbach 1930 sales cards and day book).

Folger’s deltiological interest in the marble Shakespeare statue in the British Museum (ownership transferred in 2005 to the British Library) is reflected in three-way correspondence between Folger, Rosenbach, and British bookseller Quaritch. It all starts on Jan. 18, 1927 when Henry writes his most persistent and successful bookseller, Abraham S. W. Rosenbach at his New York bookstore on 275 Madison Ave. about a marble statue of Shakespeare by Louis-François Roubiliac. Folger keeps or tries to keep impeccable records of his purchases and objects associated with them. Folger asks Rosenbach confirmation that the marble statue is indeed in the British Museum.

Fig. 7 Folger letter to Rosenbach regarding marble Shakespeare statue by Roubiliac.

Anyone who has spent time in the Folger Archives via the 71 gray boxes becomes familiar with light-yellow carbon copies of letters Henry Folger wrote from 26 Broadway, the seat of the Standard Oil Company on Manhattan where he worked for decades. In the early years of employment at Standard Oil, Folger may not have had a regular secretary. As a senior executive by 1910, however, Folger obtains the full-time services of a personal secretary, one Alexander Welsh until Folger’s death in 1930. Using Welsh for book correspondence was an executive perk at the time. Welsh also handled Folger’s business correspondence.

On Jan. 19, 1927, Dr. Rosenbach—as Folger addresses him—responds with both erudition and cunning. Rosy—as friends referred to him—responds with precision where in the British Museum the statue is. He relates the provenance of the statue as having come from playwright and actor David Garrick. In the second paragraph Rosy butters up “H. C.” (as many people call Folger) big time implying Folger should not preoccupy himself with the marble copy. Rosenbach has sold Folger the much more significant “terre cuite” original from which the marble copy was made, and perhaps not entirely by Roubiliac. Rosy uses the French terre cuite rather than the more often employed (on the postcard, for example) Italian terracotta.

Fig. 8 Rosenbach letter to Folger regarding two Shakespeare statues by Roubiliac.

Armed with Rosy’s impressive intel, H. C. shoots off a letter to his favorite British bookseller, Bernard Quaritch at 11 Grafton St., New Bond St. W., giving the precise location of the statue (he had learned only the day before) in the British Museum.

Fig. 9 Folger letter to Quaritch about postcards of marble Shakespeare statue by Roubiliac.

On Jan. 20, Folger is still hot on a trail. What is he after? Why, nothing other than postcards of the Roubiliac marble statue! He wants another dozen, the amount he had secured from Quaritch of the terracotta sculpture at the V&A Museum. Here is what this invoice from Quaritch looks like.

Fig. 10 Invoice from Quaritch to Folger for 12 postcards of marble Shakespeare statue.

On Feb. 18, 1927, Quaritch sends Henry Folger, Esq., 26, Broadway, New York, U.S.A. an invoice amounting to 3 shillings, 8 pence for an undetermined number (presumably 12 at 3 shillings per) postcards (postcards and postage duty free), called here “photographic reproduction.” In the lower left of the invoice the accountant Higginson has stamped the invoice as paid by Folger on Mar. 29, 1927.

Fig. 11 Invoice from Quaritch to Folger for six more postcards of Shakespeare statue by Roubiliac.

On Mar. 24, 1927, Quaritch sends an invoice to Folger, who in the meantime has requested six additional postcards. The invoiced postcards of the marble Shakespeare statue are marked as dutiable at 3 shillings per plus postage (duty free) of 3 shillings for a total of 18 shillings, 3 pence. Accountant Higginson has stamped the invoice as paid by Folger on May 9, 1927.

Something doesn’t look just right, so let’s compare these last two invoices. Quaritch invoices postage of 2 shillings for 12 postcards and 3 shillings for 6 postcards. What sense does that make? In the Feb. 18 invoice the postcards are marked duty free; in the Mar. 24 invoice they are marked dutiable. What’s going on in the Quaritch accounting department, anyway? Does Folger notice? Are these peanuts too small to cavil about?

Collectors often have a limits issue. Where do they stop? They can’t collect everything. Why are 12 or 18 postcards of a Shakespeare statue by Roubiliac the number Folger thinks he needs in the 1920s? On the other hand, we could applaud Henry for having demonstrated restraint. Remember how reckless he was in 1879? He was able to finish college only because of a generous loan from the Charles Pratt family. In early July before he has started any work for a living, he splurges ten dollars on 800 copies of the program to hear him declaim and walk away with the Hyde oratory contest?

Determined readers, I have to show you one more letter before we leave Roubiliac.

Fig. 12 Letter from Folger to principal architect Cret on Roubiliac sculpture.

What a rich letter from Folger to principal architect of the Folger Shakespeare Library, Paul Philippe Cret, on July 5, 1929! Folger retired from Standard Oil in 1928 to devote himself full time to the design and furnishing of the library, and more book buying, of course. Although retired, after 49 years (!) of loyal service to the firm he was given a comfortable executive office at 26 Broadway, where he could be found most Thursdays and Fridays. It is not surprising to read that Folger had written Cret a note only two days earlier. In paragraph no. 1, Folger proudly labels his Roubiliac statue as “most valuable and most interesting.” He adds the name of Gollancz, the Shakespeare editor that Rosenbach omitted mentioned in his letter in Fig. 8. Don’t neglect reading the last paragraph, where Folger declares the relative importance or bronzes, marbles, and paintings as opposed to books in the Shakespeare collection.

Folger did not sign this letter. The “w” under the “r” in Folger signifies that Alexander Welsh, Folger’s personal secretary, signed for his chief. Cret sent the important letter to his two principal associates, John Harbison (JFH) and William Livingstone (WHL), as indicated in the upper left corner of the letter. Whenever Cret and Folger met to discuss the library project, Harbeson accompanied the principal architect. The reason is most interesting. Harbeson later explained: “As Paul Cret has lost much of his hearing in his five years in World War I, and that loss had kept him from losing a strong French accent, I was taken along to the meetings to see that Mr. Folger understood what Cret said and Cret heard Mr. Folger’s ideas” (Folger Archives Box 57).

(This post was originally published on the Folger Shakespeare Library’s research blog The Collation on November 14, 2019.)

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On the trail of Folgers (or is it Folger’s?) Coffee

by Stephen H. Grant | Oct 6, 2021 | Biography, Books, Collecting, Culture, Folger, Nantucket, Travel

Some of us more than others pay attention to punctuation: Folgers or Folger’s?

However, we all recognize a rhyme when we hear it:

The best part of waking up
Is Folgers in your cup!

My first major (masked) voyage after the unexpected onset and unchartered course of Covid 19 was in July 2021 from Dulles to San Francisco airport to visit my family. First item on the agenda the day after arriving: my son drove us 7 minutes from his house in San Carlos to visit the historic Filoli estate, one of 28 sites of The National Trust for Historical Preservation. My daughter who lives in San Jose loved the gardens and grounds so much that on the spot she joined as a member. And what a nice surprise was waiting for me in the pantry!

Fig. 1. Filoli pantry, Folger’s coffee cans, and thrilled author

Jason Hinkle, the Director of Visitor Services at Filoli, exclaimed to us excitedly, “Wait until you hear how we got those old coffee cans!” I had assumed they had lain for decades on the estate pantry shelf. It took me a while to get the full scoop. You would not guess it, Filoli stands for FIght LOve LIve.

Julie Bly DeVere, Director of Museum Collections at Filoli, put the word out that she needed a refrigerator to complete their vintage kitchen appliance set. Curator of Collections at History San Jose, Ken Middlebrook, responded that they could spare a duplicate General Electric refrigerator. When Julie masked up and toured the San Jose facility to check out the fridge, she spied two (empty) vintage Folger’s coffee cans. One was a whopper fifteen pounder! They were available, too. Julie later wrote me, “I was thrilled to have a can that was big enough for our pantry!”

Mind you, a sealed Folger’s coffee can might have been full of something other than coffee. Today eBay will sell you a Folger’s coffee jigsaw puzzle in a can, a promotional item. “Pull string to open” are the instructions to get into the look-alike cardboard container. EBay will also sell you various vintage cans of Folger’s coffee.

Let’s look closely at the two Folger’s coffee cans.

Figs. 2-3. 15-lb Folger’s can

FOLGER’S COFFEE 15 LBS. NET WEIGHT GOLDEN GATE BRAND ESTAB. 1850

J. A. FOLGER & CO. SAN FRANCISCO KANSAS CITY HOUSTON

Figs. 4-5. Smaller Folger’s tin

FOLGER’S COFFEE DRIP GRIND

J. A. FOLGER & CO. SAN FRANCISCO KANSAS CITY HOUSTON

Folger’s Coffee has now been around for 171 years. As of 1946 (written on Fig. 5. can), we learn that Folger’s label included an apostrophe after Folger, as in Folger’s Coffee. The company was founded in San Francisco, and by 1946 had expanded to have plants/offices in Kansas City and Houston. “Drip grind” indicates a fine grind of coffee, whereby the brew drips through a filter. “Golden Gate brand” was the most expensive blend of ground coffee.

Let’s appreciate the evocative artistry on the coffee cans. In the background, you have the Golden Gate Bay entrance with, on one side, the Marin Headlands, and, on and the other, San Francisco. In the foreground, to the left, a pilot schooner; the center, a four-masted square-rigged ocean freighter powered by sail and steam; and to the right, a steam-powered tugboat. The freighter illustrates the means by which bags of green coffee beans, in the Age of Sail, traveled from distant shores in Central and South America.

For the historical context behind the Folger memorabilia, we turn to a 72-page pamphlet, The Folger Way: Coffee Pioneering Since 1850, written by Ruth Waldo Newhall. For those that may be interested, according to WorldCat.org––the world’s largest library catalog––four editions of The Folger Way were published between 1961 and 1970.

1961 by J. A. Folger & Co., San Francisco, print and ebook
1963 by Folger Coffee Co., Cincinnati, print
1970 by J. A. Folger & Co., San Francisco, print.

The copy of The Folger Way that I read in 2010 was in the California Historical Society library in San Francisco. You can see the call number, N455 in the following image.

Fig. 6. The Folger Way: Coffee Pioneering Since 1850 by Ruth Waldo Newhall

Note that the 1963 edition was printed in Cincinnati because that city was where Procter & Gamble was headquartered. 1963 was the year when P&G acquired J. A. Folger & Co. It was Procter & Gamble who decided to change “Folger’s” to “Folgers” in the brand. I did not try to track down the minutes of the P&G Executive Committee to learn when the change was made and why.

The pamphlet starts by evoking the New World’s first Peter Folger, who in 1635 sailed on the Abigail to the New World with his father John from East Anglia, eastern England. This Peter Folger was a polymath par excellence, but still, much less well known than his grandson, Benjamin Franklin. You can read about it in this journal article I wrote in 2016.

The Folger Way continues by describing the tragedies that befell Samuel Brown Folger (1795–1864), master blacksmith in Nantucket, who owned two ships and headed a shop that outfitted shipbuilders and owners. In 1844, his third of nine children Samuel Jr. died at age 19. In 1846, a fire destroyed the waterfront and business quarter, including Samuel’s shop and ships. His remaining five sons aged 9 to 19 pitched in to help in the rebuilding effort. Henry Clay Folger Sr., father of the founder of the Folger Shakespeare Library in 1932, was one of them at age 13; James Ahearn Folger was another, the next to youngest at 11. The downtrodden family saw a glimmer of hope at the end of the decade: gold on the west coast.

Fig. 7. James Ahearn Folger
The Folger Way, p33

James Ahearn Folger (1835–1889) was born in Nantucket when the island boasted the largest whaling port in the world. By his 15th year, the whaling trade had plummeted, sending him searching for a different livelihood. Fourteen Pacific Mail steamers left Nantucket for the Isthmus of Panama, and on to disgorge laborers and fortune seekers to participate in The California Gold Rush. On May 5, 1850, James and two older brothers entered the Golden Gate. Family funds allowed for only two to try their luck at gold; James would fend for himself relying on his carpentry skills.

Almost twice Jim’s age, William Henry Bovee had established a small coffee roasting business in New York City. When William arrived in San Francisco he hired Jim to help build a spice and coffee mill. Housewives were making their own coffee at home. Before long, Jim became clerk and salesman in the first mill in California to roast, grind, and package coffee.

In 1861––wartime––James Folger married Ellen Laughren of Burlington, Vermont who had traveled to San Francisco with her parents. James II was born in 1863. The family settled in Oakland. Four more children were born, and two died. James II, Elizabeth, and Ernest lived until adulthood. James entered into various partnerships until 1880. After one went bankrupt in 1865, he managed to pay off the debts. In the 1880s salesmen from the firm scoured rough-and-tumble lumber and mining towns in the west and northwest as far as Seattle. To coffee products they added spices, tea, baking powder, and extracts. Periodically James returned to his beloved Nantucket in the summer.

James became a prosperous Oakland citizen. He joined the Bohemian and Pacific Union Clubs. He served on Oakland’s Board of Education and City Council. In June 1889, the Folgers left for a summer vacation in Monterey. He developed acute gastritis and at 54 died unexpectedly of a coronary occlusion. Oakland city flags were flown at half-mast.

Fig. 8. James Ahearn Folger II
The Folger Way, p34

At age 26, having worked seven years in the firm as clerk and salesman, James Ahearn Folger II (1863–1921) stepped into his father’s shoes as the second-generational President of J. A. Folger & Co. The estate included total ownership of J. A. Folger & Co. In 1890, James A. Folger II filed papers of incorporation: James II, Ernest, and Elizabeth each held one-third of the stock.

Fig. 9. Folger’s Coffee office and plant completed in 1905, The Folger Way, p42

1905 was a big year for Folger’s coffee. The company chose the corner of Howard and Spear Streets in San Francisco to build a ground-floor office with four upper floors for the plant. It was choice real estate in the city: a block and a half from the bay piers and three blocks from the Ferry building. The location served the firm until 1963. Today the ground floor is occupied by an optometrist’s office. The University of San Francisco owns floors 2–5 that are used for classes as well as administration.

Fig. 10. J. A. Folger office sign at corner of Howard and Spear Sts.

Fig. 11. Author, walk-in safe in J. A. Folger office at 101 Howard St.

Thanks to its strong construction, 101 Howard St. survived the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. U.S. Marines chose the Folger building from which to pump water from the bay to put out the spreading fires. As the city was being rebuilt, Folger’s handed out free coffee.

In the first decade of the 20th century, Folger’s company underwent substantial geographical expansion. Starting out on the west coast, the firm added plants in the Midwest: Fort Worth, Texas and in 1907 in Kansas City, blessed with a rail hub and port on the Missouri River. In 1908, J. A. Folger & Co. of Nevada was incorporated.

James Ahearn Folger III (1900–1972), after college in 1922, started working as a clerk for the family firm in San Francisco, now entering its third generation. He moved to the northwest to work in sales before returning to San Francisco as Advertising Manager. In 1926 he was elected Director and Vice President. A decade later he became President. During World War II metal was no long available for package coffee. The company switched to glass jars with waxed cardboard lids. In 1938, Folger’s opened a plant in Houston, Texas which received bags of green coffee that sailed 50 miles up the ship channel from Galveston. The 1930s also saw the opening of Folger’s plants south of the border, in El Salvador, Guatemala, and Mexico. By 1952 the company had added Los Angeles and Portland, Oregon to its stateside office locations.

In 1958, when the New York Giants baseball team moved to San Francisco, Folger’s Coffee became one of its three sponsors. Famed play-by-play sportscaster Russ Hodges, remembered for describing Bobby Thomson’s three-run home run against the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1951 clinching the National League pennant, also became the California voice of Folger’s.

Fig. 12. James Ahearn Folger III
The Folger Way, p70

In 1963, the family heirs of James Folger II and Ernest sold the third largest coffee wholesaler in the country to Procter and Gamble. Peter Folger (1905–1980) was grandson of the founder, younger brother of James Folger III, and the father of Abigail Folger. Peter worked for the company from 1932 to 1970. Abigail was coffee heiress and at age 25 in 1969 Charles Manson family murder victim.

In 2005, exactly a century after the San Francisco earthquake, Hurricane Katrina severely damaged the New Orleans plant that Proctor & Gamble officer Jennifer Becker called “the largest coffee production plant in the United States.” The plant shut down for 11 weeks during which the company set up a “trailer village” for employee housing. In 2008, J. M. Smucker Company in Orrville, Ohio bought Folgers Coffee from P&G.

North America is the world’s largest coffee market. The Folger coffee story that began in San Francisco continues to play a lead role in the United States and beyond.

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Henry Clay Folger’s Deltiological Profile, Part I

by Stephen H. Grant | Sep 16, 2021 | Amherst, Biography, Books, Collecting, Deltiology, Folger, Literature, Postcards, Shakespeare, Washington D.C.

Like Emily Jordan Folger, Henry Clay Folger manifests his deltiological profile in two ways. First, he purchases picture postcards and sends them to his wife when he is on business trips. I found no evidence that he sends postcards to anyone else but Emily. Secondly, Henry’s interest in postcards is one way for him to boost his Shakespeariana collection.

In Part I, we will look at seven picture postcards Folger purchases on two Standard Oil Company trips to the west in 1910. Folger is 53 years old. His executive functions at Standard Oil include secretary and assistant treasurer of Standard Oil Company of New Jersey and chairman of the manufacturing committee. The vice-president of Standard Oil Company of Kentucky or “Kyso” at the time is Charles (Charlie) Millard Pratt, son of oil refiner Charles Pratt (no middle name). Charlie is the most important friend Henry Folger ever had. They attend prep school together at Adelphi Academy in Brooklyn. They room together at Amherst College for four years. Junior year, Henry almost drops out for lack of funds, but Charlie bails him out with a loan. Soon after their college graduation in 1879, Henry follows Charlie to start working in the elder Pratt’s oil company, Chas. Pratt & Co. in New York. This company had been bought out in a secret deal by John D. Rockefeller in 1874, but still retained the Pratt name.

Left: Charles Pratt, Brooklyn Historical Society. Right: Charles M. Pratt, Amherst College Archives and Special Collections

In this 1910 trip, Henry Clay Folger travels to Lexington, Kentucky, home of his namesake; Kentucky statesman Henry Clay died in 1852, five years before Henry Clay Folger was born. From that era until today, parents name male babies after the man who served in the Senate and the House of Representatives where he was Speaker, and Secretary of State. Kentucky’s Favorite Son helped found the National Republican Party.

Let’s turn our attention to the postcards which attract Folger.

Henry Clay Home of 1807, Lexington, Ky. Folger Archives Box 25, photo by Stephen Grant.

A dog is lying alert next to an empty chair under a tree. The lady of the house stands near the front door. In other versions of this picture on Google the colors are different and Clay is sitting in his chair!

Message and Address side of same postcard

A man named Knight took the black and white photo. The photo was then hand tinted in different versions before being turned in a postcard. Every postcard is made up of three sheets of paper: the picture on one side, the address/message on the other, and a sheet in-between. Wrenn & King were the importers and manufacturers of the card. In this period many postcards sold in the U.S. were manufactured in Germany due to the superiority of their printing presses. Henry Folger’s finger prints are on this card that was posted on April 12, 1910 in Lexington in the afternoon. But after he marks his wife’s name and address, why does he not write a message? Staring him in the face is, in capital letters, “THIS SPACE FOR WRITING MESSAGES.” Does Henry freeze? I found no evidence that Henry has ever written a message on a picture postcard. We know that Henry and Emily did not exchange love letters, as they were almost always near one another.

Readers, raise your hand if you have ever sent a postcard to someone without a message. I have not. I don’t know why Henry does it. But I do know that he puts the card in the mailbox without a stamp. Look carefully, there are two cancellations. The green one-cent Franklin stamp is affixed over the first cancellation. Way back in 1910, did putting the stamp upside down signify “I love you”? Postal authorities could do two things when a piece of mail had insufficient postage: find the sender and remind him or her the U.S. mail system is not free and pay up, or send the mail on its way and mark on the envelope “POSTAGE DUE,” trying to collect on the receiving end. We will see both practices reflected in the postcards in the Folger archives.

“Ashland,” Henry Clay Home, Lexington, Ky. Folger Archives Box 25, photo by Stephen Grant.

Ivy-covered mansion with no people or trees; a lone bicycle on the ground near the front door.

Message and Address side of same postcard

Now this is interesting, a second postcard Henry addresses to Emily on the very same day. I don’t think I’ve ever sent two postcards to anyone on the same day. He is consistent in writing no message to his spouse. But, Henry my man, there are other virtues in life than consistency. Come on, you can do it! This is 1910; you were married in 1885. This year is your silver anniversary year of marriage. Why not celebrate? Fill in the entire message space on the card. Or even spill over a bit, the way you did when you wrote your mother your freshman year of college. Will Emily agree that no news is good news? He puts no stamp initially on the first card, and a red Washington two-cent stamp on this card. Why two-cent, when only a one-cent is required? We find confirmation that the postcard was printed in Germany. R.P.O. signifies Railway Post Office. Folger had the postcard cancelled while on board the train.

Deer in Riverview Park, Omaha, Neb. Folger Archives Box 25, photo by Stephen Grant.

Now Folger and the Standard Oil Company delegation have traveled from Lexington, KY to Omaha, NE. Again, this is a black-and-white photo that has been hand tinted, and there are what looks like a sun spot near the middle of the photo.

Message and Address side of same postcard

The card was published by Barkalow Bros., Omaha Neb. in its “Quality Series.” YAY! Henry, you did it! I knew you could. Three cheers for Henry Clay Folger! He has gotten it together. He puts a one-cent on the card before sending it. And, after two tries, he decides to actually pen his wedded wife some thoughts he has formulated with these six words: “All right as far as Fremont.” That is, Fremont, NE. If everything is all right, then there is no reason to write? The message is not gushy romantic, nor does he reveal any Standard Oil Company secrets between the lines. “All right as far as Fremont” is not a line to be remembered but it’s a start to their postcard correspondence. I’ve read more postcard messages than the next man. Never have I come across a correspondent who, with nothing else to say, fills in the remainder with two lines and an “x.” Was it to discourage a freeloader from adding his or her two cents worth?

Green River, Wyo. Folger Archives Box 25, photo by Stephen Grant.

In the town of Green River, WY, we see a park, row of young trees, telegraph posts, meat market, bakery, no vehicles, one person standing under a sign, and a towering geological formation in the background.

Message and Address side of same postcard

Yay, the upright pronoun! Folger is finally inserting his persona into the western geography. What do we learn? “I saw this myself Monday morning.” What will Emily think when she reads her husband’s six words (again) from three-quarters of the way across the country? Oh, Henry, what a missed opportunity! Again, Folger crosses over the empty space on the card to assure his privacy.

Contemplate the message, “This space can be used for a written message, using one-cent stamp.” “This space” refers not to the left side of the card but the entire side. Curious choice of words. Postal customers in 1910 are not used to having a prescribed space for the message. Up until 1907, according to Universal Postal Union regulations, one whole side of the postcard was reserved for the address. Hey, wait a minute. The postmark says Ogden, Nov. 13. It’s not the same trip! The “Company men” would not go on an eight-month inspection tour.

R. R. Depot, Green River, Wyo. Folger Archives Box 25, photo by Stephen Grant.

Note the same stone formation behind the empty Depot as behind the meat market and park. This is a black-and-white card, while all the others Henry sends are in color. The resolution is excellent. We see the Green River sign above the four columns, a lone conductor standing on the platform, a covered two-wheel wagon for transporting baggage. No train, no passengers.

Message and Address side of the same postcard

This message is written on Nov. 14, 1910, the day after the preceding card. Henry splurges with fifteen words. “Addressed right in front of the picture. Never was in so queer a looking place”? Folger is sitting looking at the railroad station when he addresses the card to his wife. This fact gives the message a new kind of spontaneity. Does he mean to write “in so queer-looking a place”? A little tipsy at the time, was he, Henry? Nope, just a lapse. Folger was a teetotaler after college.

The Portals, Canon of the Grand River, Colo. Folger Archives Box 25, photo by Stephen Grant.

We see the familiar red stone formation along the Green River. We’ve moved from Wyoming to Colorado. The Green River is a tributary of the Colorado River.

Message and Address side of same postcard

Published for Gray News Co., Salt Lake City, Utah. Two cards of the seven we have looked it contain the swirling calligraphy in and around POST CARD. “Mailed at Ogden Monday night.” We are down to five words, “Mailed at Ogden Monday night,” the least he has written his beloved on these western trips. This card was mailed on Nov. 14, 1910, the same day as the preceding card. He gets the one-cent stamp right this time. Does Emily run to the door when she hears the postman? What will I hear about his trip out west? Perhaps her expectations are no higher than a sign of life.

Shale Cut, West of Wilkins, Wyo. On line of Western Pacific. Folger Archives Box 25, photo by Stephen Grant.

A dramatic photo with a Union Pacific locomotive chugging right toward the photographer. Oil shale is rock that holds deposits of fossilized algae that never received sufficient pressure to produce crude oil. Today, U.S. companies extract shale oil and gas via hydraulic fracturing (fracking). A century ago, Standard Oil Company inspection teams were already visiting sites to examine possibilities of oil exploration.

Message and Address side of same postcard

This is the second card in the lot published in the Quality Series by Barkalow Bros., Omaha Neb. The first was numbered A-6831 and this one A-1209. One can infer that this is a big production company with thousands and thousands of picture postcards of different sites. Postmark is Nov. 14, 1910, making the card the second one he mails that day. Folger’s expansive message: “We passed this point at 12:30. We are held up at Echo by a wreck ahead. We have the right of way. We will be detained 30 minutes. We pass a train that has been held 8 hours. Such is life on the frontier and elsewhere. Monday P.M.” Only one line left, but still a crossed line to fill in the message space. After a record 48 words Folger penned, we are witness to our first philosophical observation from Henry Folger on the trip: life on the frontier is unpredictable.

(This post was originally published on the Folger Shakespeare Library’s research blog The Collation on October 9, 2019.)

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Henry Folger never knew of the First Folio that surfaced in France this year

by Stephen H. Grant | Sep 1, 2021 | Biography, Books, Collecting, Folger, Library, Literature, Shakespeare

In forty years of book collecting, Henry Clay Folger managed to collect eighty-two of the 800 or so First Folios containing thirty-six Shakespeare plays compiled by two of the Bard’s actor friends, John Heminge and Henry Condell, and printed in 1623. They form the gemstone of the private research institution, the Folger Shakespeare Library, on Capitol Hill. When individual Shakespeare plays were first printed, they appeared in a small “quarto” format. A “folio” page is twice the size of a quarto page, over a foot high and about nine inches wide. The compilation that appeared seven years after Shakespeare’s death is the sole source for half of Shakespeare’s dramatic production. Eighteen plays (including Macbeth, Julius Caesar, The Tempest, and As You Like It) had never been printed before and would probably be unknown today without this early work.

Title page of Shakespeare’s First Folio, published in 1623, with the familiar portrait by Droeshout. The Folger Library possesses eighty-two copies of the First Folio, all different in some respects. Image from Collecting Shakespeare, used by permission of the Folger Shakespeare Library.

Henry Folger called the First Folio “the greatest contribution ever made to the world’s secular literature.” His wife, Emily Jordan Folger, referred to the volume as “the cornerstone of the Shakespeare Library.” Amherst-educated Henry and Vassar-educated Emily were a childless couple from the Gilded Age. Together they collected 92,000 books about Shakespeare and his times, an average of six books every day. A vanished First Folio is rediscovered on average once a decade. The Folgers were not aware of the First Folio that resurfaced in the northern France town of Saint-Omer in September 2014. For 200 years, it had been misshelved among antiquarian books from the eighteenth century. The Saint-Omer copy of Shakespeare’s First Folio is incomplete and damaged. Thirty pages are missing, including the title page with the iconic engraving of the high-browed Bard and the entire play Two Gentlemen of Verona. However, when an exhibit on Anglo-Saxon authors opens in the Saint-Omer public library in 2015, this item will be its centerpiece. It is bound to attract hoards of both tourists and scholars. It is too early to evaluate the import of this recent find. It will take months or years for scholars to minutely examine all its pages to discover the secrets that lie within. One thing is immediately clear: this copy shows signs of significant wear and use. Not only are the pages worn, but the margins contain handwritten annotations. Certain antiquarian book collectors—such as J. P. Morgan or Henry E. Huntington, who competed with Folger for the same items—would have declined to acquire the volume as it was not complete or pristine. Folger would have aggressively sought to purchase the item. He was persuaded that a well-used First Folio would yield important clues for scholars. It was for study, not for show. Possibly one major feature in the Saint-Omer copy is related to religious beliefs. Saint-Omer lies only eighty miles across the English Channel from Dover. During Queen Elizabeth’s reign, an English Jesuit in the late sixteenth century founded a college in Saint-Omer. The college provided a haven for British Catholics persecuted in Protestant Elizabethan England who fled across the Strait of Dover. In the Middle Ages, Saint-Omer had been one of the forty most important European cities, boasting the fourth largest library. It contained a Gutenberg Bible, much rarer than a Shakespeare First Folio. There are now 233 known First Folios and about fifty original Gutenberg Bibles in the world. It is significant that the other Shakespeare First Folio in France is in Paris, and the other two Gutenberg Bibles in France are also in Paris. With the 2014 find, Saint-Omer has made a huge bound in celebrity reminiscent of its heyday 500 years ago. One small village in the Pas de Calais houses the two most famous secular and sacred volumes in the universe. Although the newly discovered First Folio already has a preliminary value of $4 million put on it, the library director has announced it constitutes a national treasure and is not for sale.

(This post was originally published on Johns Hopkins University Press Blog on December 10, 2014)

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Shakespeare Collector Emily Jordan Folger and First Lady Grace Goodhue Coolidge

by Stephen H. Grant | Aug 21, 2021 | Amherst, Biography, Folger, Library, Literature, Shakespeare, Vassar College

Emily Folger née Jordan was a bluestocking: an educated, intellectual woman with a scholarly bent. In 1875, she followed her two sisters to Vassar College in Poughkeepsie, New York. Elected president for life of her class of 36 women, she went home to Brooklyn with a Phi Beta Kappa key in her pocket. Emily went on to earn a master’s degree in Shakespeare Studies at Vassar in 1896, a year in which only 250 women in the country attained that level. Born in Ohio, she never lost the folksy way of ending sentences with “doncha know.”

Photo 1: Emily Jordan Folger portrait by Frank O. Salisbury, 1927.
Courtesy of Folger Shakespeare Library.

Grace Coolidge née Goodhue was born in Vermont in 1879, the year Emily Jordan graduated from Vassar. Emily and Grace’s mothers were both born in New Hampshire. An only child, Grace graduated from the University of Vermont in 1902 with a B.A. in teaching. Grace and Emily each served as teachers. Grace taught at the Clarke School for the Deaf in Northampton, Massachusetts, employing lip reading rather than signing. Emily taught general studies at the Nassau Institute in Brooklyn. After their marriages to Henry Folger in 1885 and to Calvin Coolidge in 1905, both wives were obliged by law to stop teaching. The Folgers and the Coolidges joined the Congregational Church. Emily led Sunday School lessons at Brooklyn’s Plymouth Congregational Church, where the pastor was the abolitionist firebrand, Henry Ward Beecher. Emily and Grace both loved the theatre. They were both active in alumnae affairs. Both were outgoing, and married shy, quiet men. The two husbands went to the very top of their fields in the early 20th century. Folger was CEO of Standard Oil Company of New York and assembled the largest collection of Shakespeare items in the world. Coolidge was the 30th president of the United States of America. Despite this renown, the two couples were modest and simple folks.

Photo 2: Grace Coolidge portrait by Frank O. Salisbury, 1928.
Courtesy of Vermont Division for Historic Preservation, President Calvin Coolidge State Historic Site.

Both Emily Folger and Grace Coolidge were subjects of paintings by the same British artist, Frank O. Salisbury. Known as Britain’s “Painter Laureate,” Salisbury painted 25 members of the Royal House of Windsor from King George V to Princess Elizabeth and four American presidents. Salisbury was more motivated to paint women because their attire was generally more colorful; he had apprenticed in a stained-glass factory that had left its mark. Salisbury was known to rummage around in his subjects’ closets looking for an inspiring outfit. In 1927, he painted Emily Folger seated indoors wearing her Vassar academic gown with flowing pink hood. She held in her hand an 18th-century fan decorated with a wedding scene from Shakespeare’s Henry V. In 1928, Salisbury depicted Grace Coolidge bedecked in jade jewelry, with hair pulled back, sitting outdoors in a flowing gown over a floral dress and with a red ostrich feather fan on her lap.

Photo 3: Grace Coolidge portrait by Howard Chandler Christy, 1924.
Courtesy of the White House Historical Association.

Grace Coolidge was the subject of another painter’s fancy. Howard Chandler Christy in 1924 was commissioned by sorority sisters at Pi Beta Phi to paint the First Lady. In a sleeveless red dress, standing on the White House south lawn flanked by her new white collie, Rob Roy, she was captivating. Coolidge biographer Amity Shlaes calls it “among the most beautiful paintings of a First Lady ever made.” The painting hangs in the White House China Room, where the rug was selected to match the color of Grace’s dress. At the time, however, President Coolidge was not sure he approved of Grace’s arms being bared for the world to see. When he grilled the artist, he preferred to bring up the color, why the dress needed to be red. Christy replied that it was to contrast with the white dog. Coolidge shot back, “Why not dye the dog red?”

(This post was originally published on Johns Hopkins University Press Blog on April 23, 2019)

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Postcards of Egypt

by Stephen H. Grant | Jun 28, 2021 | Africa, Collecting, Culture, Deltiology, Egypt, Egyptology, Postcards, Smithsonian, USAID

The news came from Washington DC in a 1982 State Department cable signed SHULTZ: “STEPHEN GRANT IS ASSIGNED TO CAIRO AS EDUCATION OFFICER.” Of course, President Reagan’s Secretary of State George Shultz had no idea who I was. The Department’s convention was for cables to go out under the Secretary’s name only. My family and I had several more months before the movers would come to our house in Abidjan, Ivory Coast on July 21, 1983. For me it was a transfer; for all of us it would be an uprooting and an adventure.

I had become a Foreign Service officer in 1979 while “in the field,” rather than in the Washington headquarters of the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID). Having lived in French-speaking Ivory Coast for 15 years starting with Peace Corps in 1964, I needed to prepare for a four-year assignment to an Arabic-speaking country in North Africa but so different from West Africa. On January 14, 1983, my son Yonel (16 years old) and I decided to start oral Arabic lessons at the University of Abidjan. What a strange feeling to sit in the same classroom with one’s offspring. It irked me some that he was much quicker than I was to pick up the new words and sounds. One evening the instructor appeared on our doorstep to congratulate the parents on our son’s proficiency in language learning. Any level of vexation surrendered to pride.

Fig. 1. Tiwana (1981–1986), Sylviane Grant’s cat

“Steve, will you please call UTA and make a reservation for Tiwana on the flight to Cairo? Oh, and not in the hold but in the cabin.” The woman at UTA explained, “Monsieur Grant, there are already two passengers who have booked reservations for their cats. I’m sorry; that’s the limit. Those are the rules.” Sylviane (15 years old) looked at me, distraught. “Madame, will you please put Tiwana on the waiting list?” I stammered. There was a pause. “Monsieur Grant, have you ever heard of a CAT on a waiting list?”

Fig. 2. Sylviane and Yonel Grant soon after their arrival in Cairo in 1983
Photo by Stephen Grant

Arriving in Cairo (see Fig. 5 map) at the dead of night, our apartment was not ready and we were put up at the Ramses Hilton, on the 26th floor. When Sylviane opened the door onto the balcony to get some air, Tiwana’s hair stood up on end. A few days later, there was a fire on the floor above us, and we were moved to the nearby Nile Hilton. Yonel and Sylviane (see Fig. 2 photo) and their mother Annick found ways of getting to the French lycée in the Cairo suburb of Maadi. A bulletproof Embassy vehicle drove me to the USAID building. It was the largest USAID field mission in world; a decade earlier the largest was Viet Nam. I ordered new business cards.

Fig. 3. Stephen Grant’s business card in Egypt, one side

Fig. 4. American University of Cairo Press book, Spoken Arabic of Cairo
Photo by Stephen Grant

Fig. 5. Map of Egypt

With Mahmoud Gamal el Din, an invaluable civil engineer with whom I shared an office, I managed a huge USAID project to build public schools in Egyptian villages all over the country. I needed to become proficient in Arabic to carry out my functions. After trying to learn colloquial Egyptian Arabic (see Fig. 4 textbook) in the mornings and classical Arabic for reading and writing in the afternoons, I decided to give up the latter; I was neglecting my family and short-tempered with my afternoon instructor. Etched into my “gratitude journal” is the name of Sohair Lutfy, my Arabic teacher in Cairo. Thanks to Sohair, I did not panic when speaking at a school dedication in El Minya (see Fig. 5 map), 175 miles south of Cairo along the Nile (see Fig. 6 photo). Similarly, I addressed 200 turbaned adult males in the village of El Ghowal (400 miles south of Cairo in Upper Egypt), not far from Luxor (see Fig. 5 map). In the shadow of pharaonic ruins, the group had gathered for a new school dedication. What made the occasion especially significant was that the village inhabited since 1085 B.C. had waited 3,070 years for its first public school. When I wrote up the experience and attached a few of my photos of schoolchildren, USAID turned it into the Front Lines cover story in its monthly rag of August 1986 (Fig. 7 shows Egyptian schoolchildren and a completed USAID-financed school).

The Basic Education project came with a hefty price tag for American taxpayers, $190 million. What did Egypt get for it? “Every week, three new schools, complete with water and electricity, open in areas where enrollment rates are low.” One parent commented, “Before, only my boys went to school. The school was three kilometers away, and I didn’t want my daughters to be out after dark. . . Now they try to teach their mother some of things they learn at school, like sewing.”

Fig. 6. Education Officer Stephen Grant interviewed at the dedication of a new school financed by USAID in El Minya, Egypt

Fig. 7. August 1986 Cover of USAID Monthly Publication Front Lines
Photo by Stephen Grant

Not only did my speech prompt a polite ovation; I even got the crowd to laugh. The humor was not a plant. In many speaking opportunities around the world, my six-foot-four frame requires adjustment of the microphone at the lectern. But this was a fixed device for someone five feet tall. While the technician disappeared to find an alternate microphone system, I said loudly: “Raagil tawil, micro tawil.” “Tall man, tall micro.” The whole crowd emitted polite laughter. Bash Mohandis Mahmoud told me afterward that the audience was saying sotto voce to each other, “the American is speaking Arabic.” They were used to having American diplomats speaking to them in English.

It was the same weekend that I spoke for ten minutes in Arabic to 200 village men under a tent in El Ghowal on the occasion of a USAID school dedication that Mahmoud Gamal el Din suggested that we book first-floor rooms (the old section) in the Winter Palace Hotel in Luxor. His recommendation would change my deltiological life in a major way. That was the weekend I met Emeil Barsom (1913–1991), Winter Palace shop manager from 1974 until his death in 1991.

Let’s admire an early postcard of the Winter Palace built as a hotel (Fig. 8 postcard) in 1906 from my bilingual English-French book, Egypt 1900 The view through postcards, Cairo: Zeitouna, 1993. Mystery readers associate the Winter Palace with Agatha Christie, who wrote Death on the Nile while staying there. She was known for writing in the bathtub.

Fig. 8. Postcard of Winter Palace Hotel in Luxor
Photo by Stephen Grant

The Winter Palace is Luxor’s best commercial location, facing the close-by Nile and only minutes from the Luxor Temple. The gift shops are not visible in this photo, but are to the left.

When I entered the Winter Palace Shop for the first time on October 2, 1984, I figured out soon that I was not in an ordinary gift and souvenir store peddling trinkets to buy for self, family, or friends. Given my intense curiosity and collecting mania since 1980 for picture postcards, I gravitated to the racks and drawers of postcards. I noticed that many of the postcards were not individually displayed but already conveniently pre-packaged in thematic sets of 10 of 12 cards covering the main tourist sites in both Lower and Upper Egypt. Let me show you what I mean. Fig. 9. shows a wrapper (one of 43 that I saved) that contained 12 black-and-white postcards of Luxor, for sale as a set. Look how quickly and effortlessly you can build up a collection! I had obtained 500 postcards with the contents of these wrappers.

Fig. 9. Gaddis & Seif Photographers selling 12 B&W postcards of Luxor
Photo by Stephen Grant

Look this wrapper over. Does one word surprise you? Where have you seen or heard “requisities?” Right. It’s not in the dictionary, but it is a cute, fun word, and you can guess its meaning. On other wrappers, the word is spelled “requisites.” (“Requisite” can be either an adjective or a noun.) A. Gaddis and G. Seif stand for Attiya Gaddis (1889–1972) and R. Girgus Seif (dates unknown) whose commercial partnership lasted from 1912 to 1933. In Cairo, my most important source of Egyptian picture postcards was the firm, Lehnert & Landrock.

After exhausting the postcard racks and drawers in plain sight, my gaze wandered to a back room the contents of which were partially visible due to an open curtain. I peered in. I spied one large piece of furniture with drawers and drawers. No one was in the room. There was no “DO NOT ENTER” sign.

Half an hour later, perhaps, I came out coughing and wheezing. I had absorbed clouds of dust inside my nose, ears, throat, and all over my clothes. My fingers were black. I emerged with hundreds of postcards from a previous era, pristine but underneath decades of dust. Perhaps the old cards (I later learned were from about 1910) were relegated to the back room once the first color postcards came on the market? The old postcards had no price tags on them. I presented the packs of 10 or 12 cards per set, plus a large number of single postcards from the back room to the salesman whom I learned only in 2021 was Emeil Barsom (Fig. 10 portrait), husband to Nergas Gaddis. The rate was about ten cents a piece. The Winter Palace shop had become my King Tut’s tomb with fabulous discovered treasures.

Recently I found the letter I wrote my son Yonel who in October 1984 was a freshman at RPI in Troy, New York. “In Luxor, Seif confirmed he has no more old postcards at shop or home. Gaddis says he forgets easily, but has no more. When I insisted, however, he let me open up drawers, cupboards, and cabinets long since closed or blocked. In one dusty box I found 2,000 cards, only 10 years old: uninteresting. I also found 20,000 old empty envelopes: uninteresting. Then, then I came upon a box of old postcards, including, including over 100 cards (several duplicates) with a small photo in the center or side. I felt like Howard Carter! We had 4 or 5 of them before. Also found 4 more of exploitation of King Tut’s tomb with treasures being carried, flanked by 4 armed guards. Can’t wait to show you all these. I visited Nakht’s tomb, and saw 3 dancing girls and blind harpist, also Ramsesseum.”

It had never occurred to me to take photographs inside the shop. Fortunately, however, I did take the initiative to snap a photo of the shop manager in front of the shop clearly marked “Gaddis.” It might have been the same day, or another day. I did hang around that very special spot, maybe to mark my territory. Didn’t the shop manager have such an expressive gesture?

Fig. 10. Emeil Barsom, Winter Palace Hotel Shop Manager, 1985 in front of his shop
Photo by Stephen Grant

Far left, the sign written in French “CHEZ GEORGES GADDIS” would entice French tourists. Another sign reads “A.A. GADDIS & CO.” The three Gaddis gift shops feature books, silverware, jewelry, alabaster bowls, bead necklaces, stone replicas of ancient gods, etc., but the most notable is photographs and postcards.

Figs. 11 photo by Attiya Gaddis shows awnings over shop fronts to the left of the Winter Palace Hotel and the lower floors of the hotel.

Fig. 11. Winter Palace Shops 1–4, 1944
Photo by Attiya Gaddis

For the next four photographs, I have Ehab Gaddis to thank. He was born into the family that operates the oldest souvenir book shop in Luxor. In 1997 he became British honorary consul in Luxor. In 2013 he gained the rank of honorary order of the British Empire, OBE. Now he is CEO of Gaddis & Co. Ehab proudly shows visitors the old plate glass negatives used with his grandfather’s box camera. He explains that their measurements are, in inches, 2.5 x 3.5, 5 x 7, 8 x 12, and 12 x 18. Ehab’s father kept them in a refrigerator for protection. Now they are preserved in special wooden boxes.

Fig. 12. Drawers chockablock full of black and white postcards
Photo by Ehab Gaddis

Fig. 13. The famous blue curtain leading to the back room
Photo by Ehab Gaddis

Fig. 14. Original old postcards and treasures behind glass
Photo by Ehab Gaddis

Fig. 15. Attiya Gaddis’s first camera from 1907
Photo by Ehab Gaddis

When he was a teenager, Attiya Gaddis became the assistant to an Italian photographer named Antonio Beato. Beato had arrived in Cairo in 1860 with this box camera, and brought it to Luxor where he set up a shop in 1862. After Beato died in Luxor in 1906, his widow sold the camera to his assistant Attiya Gaddis. Gaddis carried on Beato’s initiative of making Luxor the center of the growing trade in marketing Egyptology for tourists. Their photographic approach was two pronged: depict the grandeur of the architecture and art on one hand, and capture scenes of everyday life and labor on the other.

In February 1985 in Cairo I met American archeologist, Mark Lehner, who was mapping the Sphinx. I brought in two large black binders to show him the 130 postcards I had collected showing the Sphinx and the Giza pyramids. He looked through the whole lot intently, concluding that picture postcards did, in fact, provide a valuable record of how those Giza treasures had eroded over recent decades. He also pointed out cards that revealed attempts to protect the antiquities and try, more or less successfully, to guard against deterioration. Now with 40 years of experience behind him, Dr. Mark Lehner is Director and President of Ancient Egypt Research Associates, Inc. (AERA).

In April 1985 I met Lanny Bell, from 1977 to 1989 field director of the Epigraphic Survey organized by the Oriental Archeological Institute (University of Chicago) in Luxor. Their objective was to map and draw all the tombs and temples in the area “before they disintegrate.” Lanny was interested in my growing postcard collection that I told him about during a visit to Chicago House in Luxor. I gave him some duplicate cards of Luxor and Medinat Habu, a New Kingdom temple on the west bank of the Nile.

In the middle 1980s, I also started collecting seriously old Egyptian picture postcards sent through the mail. I obtained them mainly by visiting postcard boutiques in Paris and sifting through shoe boxes or binders. After a while I had acquired enough to write an illustrated article and submit it to Cairo Today for publication. As you might imagine, the article started with a postcard of the Winter Palace, so magical for me.

Fig. 16. Cairo Today Sept. 1986 Cover
Photo by Stephen Grant

Fig. 17. Cairo Today Publisher, editor, and staff
Photo by Stephen Grant

Fig. 18. Nile view of Winter Palace (1910) and water carrier
Photo by Stephen Grant

Fig. 19. Souk, humor, King Tut, Sphinx, and dancing girls
Photo by Stephen Grant

Fig. 20. Cairo street, military band, desert camels, Fiat 501
Photo by Stephen Grant

Fig. 21. Grant Family cruised the Nile on the M/S Egypt
Photo by Stephen Grant

After several trips to Upper (south) Egypt for USAID, over Christmas I had the opportunity to take my wife, children, and mother on a Nile cruise that included Luxor. Our vessel was the M/S Egypt, pictured in Fig. 21.

It was a sad day when I left Luxor for the last time, a third of a century ago. I saved my train ticket. The Egyptians referred to the train between Cairo and Luxor as “el atr fransawi,” the French train. That is a misnomer. The train was manufactured in Germany, but the (dining) service was French.

Fig. 22 Luxor-Cairo train ticket
Photo by Stephen Grant

As a coda, this century I donated all my African picture postcards––most of them Egyptian––to the Eliot Elisofon Photographic Archives of the Smithsonian Institution, located in the National Museum of African Art in Washington, D.C. Fig. 23 recounts the tale of my postcard collecting capturing the attention of the Museum when the Archive Curator was Chris Geary. Amy Staples (Fig. 24.) was promoted Senior Archivist in 2004.

Fig. 23. Stephen Grant: Postcard Collector and Museum Friend
Friends of African Art Folio, Fall 2002

Fig. 24. Amy Staples, Senior Archivist
Eliot Elisofon Photographic Archives, National Museum of African Art

Thank you, dear readers, for indulging a deltiologist in coupling image and text, and please enjoy the Smithsonian’s one-minute teaser featuring Egyptian postcards, enhanced with a musical track: https://africa.si.edu/collection/eliot-elisofon-photographic-archives/

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Happy Birthday, Henry Clay Folger!

by Stephen H. Grant | Jun 14, 2021 | Amherst, Biography, Books, Collecting, Folger, Library, Literature, Shakespeare, Washington D.C.

Here are three things to remember about Henry Clay Folger on his 164th birthday, June 18, 2021.

One. The most astounding single fact about Henry Clay Folger (1857–1930) is that he made his way to the very top of two distinct lines of endeavor. From 1879 to 1928 he climbed the ranks at Standard Oil Company from statistical clerk at age 22 to CEO of the largest, most successful petroleum business on the planet. AND he assembled the largest collection of Shakespeare items in the world. His doctor of letters degree from Amherst College cites “his services in the affairs of a great empire of industry whose produce is on every sea and its light on all lands and for his knowledge in the most important field known in English literature.” John D. Rockefeller sent Folger this wry message: “I congratulate you upon receiving the degree, and that your connection with a great and useful business organization did not detract from your high standing.” Even more to Folger’s credit was that he was not born into wealth. He needed a loan from classmates to complete his college education.

Author’s collection

Two. Henry Folger’s most erudite, persistent, and successful bookseller, Dr. A. S. W. (Abraham Simon Wolf) Rosenbach of Philadelphia, called Folger “the most consistent book collector I’ve ever known.” What he meant by that phrase was that Folger kept his eyes on the prize. Folger bought virtually anything and everything by or associated with Shakespeare that he could acquire–as long as the price was right. Folger drove a hard bargain, such as insisting on ten percent discount when he paid with ready cash. Corresponding with 600 book dealers, 150 in London alone, Folger shared with them why he rejected a book offer or sent it back upon examination. Many times it was because the item was not “Shakespearean enough.” He was training them to go out and seek more and better items for his library.

Toddler Henry holding a book
Folger Shakespeare Library Archive

Dr. Folger holding a book
The oil portrait by Frank O. Salisbury, 1927, hanging in the reading room at the Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, D.C.

Evidence of Henry’s consistency appears even in how he held a book. The above portraits produced 67 years apart reveal his loving two-handed grasp.

Three. Henry Folger was a very private man. He kept no diary, gave only one interview. His postcards home while on a business trip out west sent from “Henry Clay Folger” to his wife “EJF” revealed “All in fine health and spirits.” He used shorthand for many personal notes. He signed his book cables “GOLFER.” He bought property without his name appearing on the deeds. He entreated his booksellers not to divulge what he paid for his antiquarian book purchases. His greatest glee was keeping from the world how many First Folios he owned.

Only with family and close friends did Henry open up a little. Emily described her husband this way. “Not an exuberant personality, Henry always was reticent and possibly shy by nature.”

Lawrence (Larry) Fraser Abbott and Walter (Crit) Hayden Crittenden were two Amherst chums he confided in. They had done the same things Henry had: won a prize in oratory, written for the student newspaper, sung in a fraternity quartet, earned a law degree. Crit wrote, “Mr. Folger was by nature a very shy man, almost bashful. He avoided all possible meetings and conventions, or in fact any form of gatherings, due to his shyness. It was therefore the privilege of but a few to know him intimately.” H.C. wrote to Larry, “I presume no one is better informed than I am about the value of Shakespeare literature.” Folger would not have shared that claim with just anyone. Only with Herbert Putnam, Librarian of Congress, did he share––the year he died––that he wondered if he would have his biography written some day.

(This post was originally published on Johns Hopkins University Press Blog on June 18, 2015)

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THE POWER OF A POSTCARD:
Traditional Minangkabau House in Sumatra, Indonesia

by Stephen H. Grant | May 26, 2021 | Books, Culture, Deltiology, Indonesia, Postcards

“I was very happy when Stephen came to me with the idea for a book on Indonesian postcards and though “Former Points of View” is now long out of print the publication will forever be a pioneering and landmark work in the field of Indonesian deltiology. (I’m so glad that Scott Merrillees took the torch from Stephen and has produced additional and wonderful titles.)“

John Hubert McGlynn

Before leaving on a long-term assignment as Foreign Service officer with the U. S. Agency for International Development (USAID), I visited bookstores, map shops, and old postcard shows to begin my documentation of the country in which I was to live for four years, in this case Indonesia.

For the purposes of this blog post, the map shop will take the form of www.freeworldmaps.net and Wikipedia data. Indonesia is an archipelago and the largest country in Southeast Asia, composed of 14,504 islands and covering four time zones. I lived in the capital, Jakarta (that used to be called Batavia) on the island of Java. My work as head of the education and training sector took me to mainly Sumatra and Kalimantan islands. I visited only 12 islands during my four-year stay. Only 8,844 islands are named. Only 922 are permanently inhabited.

This post focusses on Padang in the Minang or Minangkabau region in Sumatra, the third largest island in the country, 184,954 square miles. In the Minang language, Minang means “victorious” and kabau means “buffalo.” Minangkabau houses are famous for the ridge beams that sweep up to a sharp point at both ends, evoking water buffalo horns. The Minangkabau ethnic group is distinctive as it is the only matrilineal culture in the Islamic world.

Fig. 1. Map of Indonesia (in green), with Sumatra Island on the left

Fig. 2. Map of Minangkabau region in west-central Sumatra

At a “paper show” in Hartford, Connecticut, after buying several books on Indonesia, I moved to the postcard section. I found over fifty 1930-vintage sepia postcards from Indonesia for sale. Many had perforations along one side, indicating they had come from a detachable pack. In the lower left-hand corner most had an insignia that read KPM, the initials of the Koninklijke Paketvaart-Maatschappij (the Royal Dutch Packet Company), the shipping line that served passengers between Holland and the Dutch East Indies. The cards, produced by KPM for sale on its liners, were in mint condition, none having been sent through the mails. My guess was that they had been bought by an American tourist in the 1930s who had read about “the last paradise on earth.” The cards had been taken 10,000 miles to the eastern U.S., where they had lain in a shoebox for decades, being relegated to an attic, before being sold to an antique or flea-market dealer possibly because none of the grandchildren was interested in seeing what interesting information they might contain. At least they had not been pitched into the dust bin, the fate of most postcards.

I offered the dealer half the asking price. He hesitated. Then he craned his neck to look into the snack bar off to one side of the showroom floor. “Ya, I guess so. The wife’s still over there eating, but she’ll kill me when she gets back.” So the $3 per card rate went down to $1.50 a pop. Not bad, I thought.

When I got home and laid out the postcards on the bed, separating them by island, I discovered 23 cards depicting scenes from Sumatra, 12 from Bali, 12 from Java, seven from Sulawesi, and three from Borneo. All this collecting took place before I arrived in-country for my long-term assignment. By then I had amassed over 200 old postcards of Indonesia. Less than half had any message on them or had been sent through the mail.

Fig. 3. Sepia postcard of two adjacent Minangkabau houses in Padang Panjang
Photo by Stephen Grant

Fig. 4. Reverse side of above postcard
Photo by Stephen Grant

I was excited about the prospect of showing people my newly acquired photographic evidence of what Indonesia looked like several decades earlier. I brought a handful of the postcards to my first Indonesian language lesson in Bandung (see Fig. 1., where Bandung is shown south of Jakarta on the island of Java) thinking that might be one way to develop vocabulary. As I handed her the stack to go through, my teacher Ibu (Mrs.) Leila Hasyim admitted she had never heard of anyone collecting old postcards. She leafed through the ancient views with curiosity. Then suddenly she drew in her breath and stiffened, She repeatedly stabbed at the house pictured (Fig. 2.) on one of the cards. “Rumah ini, rumah saya,” she finally gasped. She left the room in a dash and returned with a framed color picture removed from her living room wall. “This house is my house!” The skin on her arm was covered by goose flesh as she explained that this brightly painted wooden adat (traditional) house had been built by her family in Padang Panjang, West Sumatra in the 1870s. Although she possessed photos of her house in the 1950s, she had never seen a picture of it with a thatched palm roof. She knew that, starting in the early 1930s, a zinc roof had been put on. Together we studied the card. On the picture side, there was no identification, no writing at all. In the lower left corner an insignia. Leila figured it out, KPM. On the reverse side (Fig. 3.) on the upper left was the name of the postcard producer, the Koninklijke Paketvaart-Maatschappij (the Royal Dutch Packet Company). That explained the initials K.P.M. in a circle with a period after each. Printing on the message part of the card divulged the Indonesian island, Sumatra, the nearest city, Padang Pandjang (the newer spelling would eliminate the “j”), and the subject Adathuis or Native House. Padang figures in Fig. 1. You also notice the penciled asking price, $3.00 at the postcard show.

At any rate, I simply had to give Ibu Leila the card; but, luckily, later I was able to find another just the same. From that day on we started plotting when we might be able to visit her ancestral home. Several months later, my wife Annick Grant and I accompanied Leila Hasyim to Padang Panjang and took pictures of the house which was still in excellent condition.

Fig. 5. Ibu Leila’s family home (exterior) in Padang Panjang
Photo by Stephen Grant

One thing that sticks out about this photo in contrast to the multi-colored wooden façade is the white stairway, certainly a later addition. The stairway is marked by two pairs of bollisters, at the top and bottom.

It is noteworthy that the traditional house to the right on the postcard had not been preserved. When a relative who had grown up in that house saw the old postcard of it, she wept. My photograph of Ibu Leila’s house (Fig. 5.) reveals on the right two modern windows with blue-gray shutters in the modern house which replaced the adat home. Fig. 3, Fig. 5., and Fig. 6. ALL show the same house. The Power of a Postcard story appeared in the March, 1994 issue of the Indonesian in-flight magazine, GARUDA under the title, “Life in the Old Card Yet,” where my Bahasa (language) teacher and I are pictured standing in front of her house in Padang Panjang, Sumatra.

Fig. 6. “Life in the Old Card Yet,” GARUDA page 36

Fig. 7. “Life in the Old Card Yet,” GARUDA page 37

Let’s stop right here! Please compare Fig. 6. With Fig. 3. Fix your gaze on the two piles of large wooden beams on the ground in the lower right corner. You can tell it is the identical photograph, right? But it is not the identical postcard. Fig. 6. at the bottom has a picture title in Dutch on top, English on bottom. The briefer title does not appear on the image side Fig. 3. but on the address side, Fig. 4.

While we were visiting her in Padang Panjang, Ibu laid on a traditional Minang luncheon inside her home for her family, neighbors, and friends (Fig. 8.). The meal consisted of the main staple, rice, rendang (chunks of water buffalo meat stewed in coconut oil), gulai otak (cattle brain curry), ayam bakar (roasted chicken), terong (eggplant), telor belado (spicy chile sauce with eggs), cucumber, shrimp crackers, gulai tunjang (pig’s feet soup), ikan bakar gembung (barbecued fish), dendeng balado (beef jerky), cabe hijau (green chile), and bananas.

Fig. 8. Ibu Leila’s home (interior) during traditional Minangkabau luncheon
Photo by Stephen Grant

Ibu Leila is half way down the row to the right, kneeling, and biting her lip perhaps under the stress of hospitality. My wife’s face is barely visible at the far end on the right. My informant for this blog post has been Ms. Yanti Amran, former executive officer with Yayasan (Foundation) LONTAR, my Indonesian publisher.

It so happened that we were invited to a Minangkabau wedding during the same visit. “Buffalo hats,” I learned, were worn by only young unmarried women, up through their teens. One of the girls in Figs. 9.–10. wears earrings and a necklace, the other not. The girl in Fig. 9. has a red-and-gold cloth over the middle of her buffalo hat, the other not.

Fig. 9. Minangkabau girl at a wedding
Photo by Stephen Grant

Fig. 10. Second Minangkabau girl at a wedding
Photo by Stephen Grant

One wonders what is going through the mind of the Minangkabau girl who places her hand on the center of a buffalo horn attached to a fence. It is such a poignant symbol of the culture, and the region.

Fig.11. Minangkabau girl contemplating water buffalo horn
Photo by Stephen Grant

Returning to postcards, it’s not always that you find a second postcard of a building in a foreign country that means something special to you. This second postcard depicting Ibu Leila’s family home is especially important due to its reverse side, although it lacks stamp, postmark, and message.

Fig. 12. “House of a big Family Padang Highlands”
Photo by Stephen Grant

Fig. 13. Reverse side of “House of a big Family Padang Highlands”
Photo by Stephen Grant

The reverse side has printed in part-Dutch, part-English, “Uitgave van HOTEL CENTRUM –– Fort de Kock Padang Highlands.” Then in pencil, “Jan. 21, ’30. Where important person lives.” It is such a boon to have month, day, and year clearly marked on a postcard! Too often I come across “Dec. 13” or “Thursday.” My own mother did the latter, writing only the day of the week on the upper right corner of her letters to me and my growing family.

Fig. 14. “House of a big Family Padang Highlands”
Photo by Stephen Grant

The postcard title in Dutch translates as Padang Highlands House, West Coast of Sumatra. Note that a young woman is seen in a window on the right side.

Fig. 15. Reverse side of “House of a big Family Padang Highlands”
Photo by Stephen Grant

Christiaan Benjamin Nieuwenhuis was a Dutch photographer based in Padang, West Sumatra who was known for anthropological photography and portraiture.

Fig. 16. Minangkabau Cultural Center, Padang Panjang
Photo by Annick Grant

Ibu Leila drove us to the Minangkabau Cultural Center in Padang Panjang so we could see a municipal edifice built in the same style as her own house. With the Indonesian flag flying, and trim decorative gardens on both sides in the central walkway, we admired the site.

Fig. 17. Online image of Minangkabau Cultural Center in Padang Panjang todayged ceiling awaiting renovation 1998

Today, the front gardens have been considerably cut back, per Fig. 17. Here is the full name and address: Minangkabau Culture Documentation and Information Center. Komplek PDIKM, Silaing Bawah, Kec. Padang Panjang Bar., Kota Padang Panjang, Sumatera Barat 27118, Indonesia.

Fig. 18. Indonesian language teacher and pupil
Photo by Annick Grant

One of my duties at USAID/Jakarta was to supervise the Bahasa language program for American USAID employees, run by Ms. Isla Winarto. During my tenure Ibu Leila Hasyim decided to retire, after having taught American development professionals for several years. I had the honor to present her with a plaque to commemorate her years of service (Fig. 18.).

Fig. 19. Book Launch in Jakarta of Former Points of View:
Postcards and Literary Passages from Pre-Independence Indonesia (a

In September 1995, Ibu Leila came to Jakarta to attend the book launch of my second postcard book, Former Points of View: Postcards and Literary Passages from Pre-Independence Indonesia. Jakarta, Indonesia: LONTAR, 1995. She is pictured with (on far left) Yudhi Soerjoatmodjo, curator of Galeri Foto Jurnalistik Antara in Jakarta, and (talking with me) Prof. Dr. Emil Salim, Minister of Environment, who was from West Sumatra, who welcomed invitees to the book launch and accompanying postcard exhibition with co-sponsor Yayasan Lontar.

Fig. 20. Book Launch in Jakarta of Former Points of View:
Postcards and Literary Passages from Pre-Independence Indonesia (b)

At the signing table are pictured Isla Winarto, Bahasa language program director at USAID/Jakarta; Scott Merrillees, already avid Indonesian postcard collector in 1995 but not yet published writer; and Former Points of View author.

Fig. 21. Greetings from Jakarta by Scott Merrillees, title page
Photo by Stephen Grant

Scott Merrillees went on to write two books about Jakarta picture postcards. In my copy of his Greetings from Jakarta, Postcards of a Capitol 1900–1950 (2012), Scott thanked me for “passing the postcard torch” on to him in 1995. It is a hugely gratifying feeling to pass a deltiological torch onto a younger generation.

Fig. 22. Padang Your Old History by Rusli Amran, title page
Photo by Stephen Grant

Here is a second title page of a book about Indonesia, but this one by an Indonesian, a Sumatran, and about Sumatra.

“For Stephen Grant, Your collection of old pictures of Indonesia is indeed extraordinary,
From the author, Rusli Amran Jak, 19 – XII –1993″
Padang Your Old History 2nd Edition – more complete Publisher: CV Yasaguna

I would like to end this Sumatran post with a concluding photograph.

Fig. 23. Three Authors Dine at Restaurant “Memories” in Jakarta 1995

The first paragraph of this post cites the figure of 14,504 islands in the Indonesian archipelago. The last paragraph quotes the figure of 6,656 restaurants in Jakarta; one of them is/was “Memories,” the only one whose principal decorative feature is that Indonesian picture postcards cover every wall. One day in 1995 three authors of different nationalities––Indonesian, Australian, and American––lunched there. During their conversation, they realized that their ages were separated by scores, or twenty-year increments. They were 35, 55, and 75 years old.

Rusli Amran was an expert regarding the Padri War, the longest and most monumental war of the Minang people against the Dutch. He is author of six books on West Sumatra published between 1981 and 1996.

Stephen Grant is author of five books––two biographies and three books on old picture postcards published in Guinea, Indonesia, and El Salvador—— published between 1991 and 2014.

Scott Merrillees is author of three books on old picture postcards of Jakarta (2) and Melbourne (1) published between 1996 and 2012, with a fourth book—on 500 Indonesian postcards—expected out soon Insha’Allah!

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Introduction to a Slightly Modified Theme: Postcards in the (home) archive

by Stephen H. Grant | May 15, 2021 | Deltiology, Folger, Library, Literature, Postcards, Shakespeare

The thematic series I started Aug. 12, 2019, “Postcards in the Folger Archives,” has come to a pause. It has not escaped my dear collational readers’ attention that in my most recent post I relied more heavily on artifacts from my personal collection. It is time to make a prepositional change. I will shift from analyzing postcards in the Folger archives—not accessible due to the building renovation—to postcards for the Folger archives, lying untapped in my Arlington VA home.

One such item is this brown envelope (and its contents).

Fig. 1. Envelope sent from F. M. Leich to Owen F. Smith in October 1933
Author’s Collection, photo by Stephen Grant

Frances M. Leich operated a concession stand at the Hotel Continental on N. Capitol St. near Union Station. She sold the first B&W postcards of the Folger and tried to persuade Folger director William Adams Slade to let her sell the cards at the Library. Initially he was not interested. I stayed at the Hotel Continental in 1951. At the concessioner’s stand I bought a postcard that is still in my family. Frances Leich did not sell me the card, however, because she died in 1949.

As for the other name in Fig. 1, Owen Fithian Smith married Henry and Emily’s niece, Mary. Fithian was Emily Folger’s banker, financial secretary, and executor of Henry’s will. Fithian and Mary’s second daughter, namesake Emily Smith Carter, donated Emily Folger’s Duchesse lace wedding dress to the Folger in 2015, and on Mar. 17, 2016, sent me a gift of 18 B&W postcards of the Folger that had resided in the envelope for 83 years. Emily Smith’s husband proposed to her in the Hotel Continental.

Fig. 2. Envelope Sent me from Santa Fe Postcard Dealer in March 2020
Author’s Collection, photo by Stephen Grant

Another is this white envelope (and its contents). Hey, what a deal: nine postcards of John Gregory’s sculptured panels on the north façade of the Folger for a quarter!

Now I will share two picture postcards of the north façade of the Folger, one the most modern in my collection and the other the oldest in my collection, both photographs taken of the Folger from a similar angle.

Fig. 3. North Façade of the Folger Library (Recent Color View) and other side of the same card.

The picture is identified as The Elizabethan Theatre of the Folger. Photograph by Julie Ainsworth. A website (www.folger.edu) is printed on a postcard? Lordy be! I have accumulated dozens and dozens of picture postcards of the Folger over the last 20 years, but only 6 indicate the Library’s website. The same 6 show a digital code. These elements would be helpful in generally dating this unused postcard. Can anyone give evidence as to what year this postcard was produced? The serial number 0010060378 would help the collector organize the collection and know what numbers might be missing. The photographer is identified as J. Ainsworth; Julie Ainsworth was a member of the photography department at the Folger starting in 1981, and eventually became its head. She added “digital imaging” to her title in 2005 and retired in 2018.

Fig. 4. North Façade of the Folger Library (1930s Sepia View) and other side of the same postcard.

The sepia card was printed by THE MERIDEN GRAVURE COMPANY, Meriden, Conn. The view is identified as section of main façade of the Folger. The Folger was “Administered by the Trustees of Amherst College.” The photographer is identified as Horydczak. Born in Germany, Theodor Horydczak was an American photographer whose studio was at 1321 Fern St., NW, Washington, DC. After the photographer’s death in 1971, his family donated his 33,000 photographic plates to the Library of Congress. The Meriden Gravure Co. used the collotype photomechanical process for making prints directly from a hardened film of gelatin. Before the invention of offset, collotype offered high-quality image reproduction.

The color card captures a wider angle than the sepia card, showing a small section of the Jefferson building of the Library of Congress. Over the decades, the size of picture postcards has changed. The sepia card is 3 ½ by 5 ½ in. while the modern card is 4 by 6 in. The collector who decides to display old and new postcards in a binder is able to find on the market two different sizes of plastic sheets to accommodate the different sized postcards, each exhibiting 4 or 6 cards in top- or side-loading pockets.

Would you like to see Theodor Horydczak at work with his camera? Show it to a young’un who knows only the camera on a smart phone.

Fig. 5. Theodor Horydczak with his camera at work
Courtesy Library of Congress.

Admire the ten-pound Gold Ansco camera that uses 8-by-10-inch negatives. The Folger retained Horydczak as the official library photographer and had him prepare negatives of the Titus Andronicus quarto for printing. Amherst College provided the Folger with a $275 postcard fund. Yay Amherst that advocates deltiology!

(This post was originally published on the Folger Shakespeare Library’s research blog The Collation on August 13, 2020.)

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The Bard’s Birthday

by Stephen H. Grant | Apr 19, 2021 | Books, England, Folger, Library, Literature, Shakespeare, Washington D.C.

Shakespeare’s Funerary Monument, Holy Trinity Church, Stratford. Photo by Sicinius, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

The Bard Will was born on the same day he died—and no one knows for sure on what day he was born. No birth certificate has been found for William Shakespeare. The plaque underneath is a baptism certificate dated April 26, 1564, in the parish register at Stratford-upon-Avon. Shakespeare’s bust in the Holy Trinity Church states that he died on April 23, 1616, at the age of 53. Traditionally, then, April 23 is celebrated around the world as his birthday.

On April 23, 1932, the English-speaking world celebrated Shakespeare’s 368th birthday in splendid fashion. The Prince of Wales flew from Windsor Castle to Stratford in a red monoplane. On the banks of the Avon River, he and the American ambassador Andrew W. Mellon spoke at the opening of the Shakespeare Memorial Theatre. American donors had raised nearly half the funds to construct the building, rebuilt after a fire; John D. Rockefeller Jr. was the largest American contributor, a fine irony considering that his father’s longtime factotum and executive employee, Henry Folger, had vigorously competed with Britons—Henry E. Huntington and others—to build a nonpareil Shakespeare collection. Mellon’s Shakespeare speech marked his first public foray beyond London. “We in America,” he intoned, “share with you a feeling of pride that England has given such a man to the world. He was of the heritage which we carried with us in founding a new civilization on the other side of the ocean, and his thoughts and the incomparable language in which he clothed them have become with us a part of our very being, as they are with you and all the English-speaking world.”

Folger Library Dedication Program, Folger Shakespeare Library Archives. Photo by Stephen Grant.

On the other side of the Atlantic from Stratford, a newly confident American culture was about to receive an emblematic gift expressing its arrival as Europe’s equal in cultivation and respect for high culture. In Philadelphia, the University of Pennsylvania accepted a fine library assembled by the Henry Folgers’ close friend, Shakespeare scholar Horace Howard Furness. In Washington, Emily Jordan Folger—who had studied for her master’s degree under Furness—sat on the stage of the Elizabethan-inspired theater in the newly completed Folger Shakespeare Library on its dedication day. She wore a shoulder corsage of orchids and lilies of the valley over her Vassar academic robe. Choked with emotion, she spoke: “Shakespeare says for Mr. Folger and me, ‘I would you would accept of grace and love’ this key. It is the key to our hearts.” Her husband had died in 1930 without seeing one stone of the library or all his books assembled together.

Turning our attention from 1564, 1616, and 1932 to 2014, Shakespeare’s 450th Birth Day in England manifested a different array of celebrations, including: • Royal Shakespeare Co., Stratford-upon-Avon performed Henry IV, Part 1. • Shakespeare’s Globe, London played Hamlet. • At the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust in Stratford-upon-Avon, the resident troupe of actors brought Shakespeare’s complete works to life in just two hours. • The twenty-foot mechanical figure of Lady Godiva slept over on Henley Street in Stratford-upon-Avon, sharing stories and exploring the role of women in Shakespeare’s works. • London’s Victoria and Albert Museum displayed the real human skull given to French actress Sarah Bernhardt by novelist Victor Hugo for her performance as Hamlet in 1899.

Speaking in the Folger Shakespeare Library reading room on Shakespeare’s birthday, 2014, the 450th anniversary of the Bard’s birth. Henry Folger is watching me over my shoulder, and trying to listen. Photo by Bruce Guthrie.

(This post was originally published on Johns Hopkins University Press Blog on April 21, 2014)

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Shall we take the ferry to Nantucket to visit the Folger Shakespeare Library?

by Stephen H. Grant | Apr 3, 2021 | Amherst, Collecting, Folger, Library, Nantucket, Shakespeare

Fig. 1. North and west façades of the Folger Shakespeare Library the year before it opened, 1931. Note the scaffolding over some bas-relief friezes. Car parked near Puck Circle purports to be a 1928 Packard Roadster with license plate 239-751. The first person to identify its owner with convincing evidence I will reward with a copy of COLLECTING SHAKESPEARE (Image Folger Shakespeare Library)

It was not a foregone conclusion that the Folger Shakespeare Library be built two blocks from the U.S. Capitol. Hidden away among Folger papers as I scoured in the library’s underground vault during the research phase of Collecting Shakespeare: The Story of Henry and Emily Folger, I found a small undated note with ten possible sites for the Folger in alphabetical order written in co-founder Henry Folger’s meticulous clerk’s hand. From FSL Box 56 for 1–9 (1) Amherst, (2) Bernardsville, New Jersey; (3) Brooklyn; (4) Manhattan; (5) Nantucket; (6) Princeton; (7) Stratford-upon-Avon; (8) University Heights, Ohio; (9) Washington, D.C.; From FSL Box 60 for (10) Chicago.

Nantucket was included because the Massachusetts island off Cape Cod had been home to the Folger tribe since surveyor and court clerk Peter Foulger arrived from Norwich, England, in the 1660s. In Moby Dick, Herman Melville wrote of “Folgers and harpooners,” as Henry’s grandfather, master blacksmith Samuel, fashioned cutting-in spades for the whaling trade. Henry’s Uncle James, after leaving Nantucket to seek his fortune in California during the Gold Rush, founded Folgers Coffee. Ever the businessman, oilman Henry calculated that a plot of land on Nantucket would cost $25,000. But how inconvenient it would have been to take the ferry from the Hyannis, Mass. to Nantucket to visit the Folger Shakespeare Library.

Brooklynite Henry Folger eyed the lavish home at 1015 Fifth Avenue, which was owned by Jay Gould’s granddaughter, as well as the one next door belonging to socialite Edith Clark. These Manhattan properties each required an outlay of $550,000, Folger figured. Exerting the most pressure was Stratford-upon-Avon; if successful, this faraway lobby would have meant repatriating to British soil the Shakespeare treasures acquired largely at auctions in England. Folger also declared, “I have been importuned by several Colleges and Universities to locate my library of Shakespeareana with them, but I have never felt disposed to consider the suggestions.”

Fig. 2. Diagram in Henry Folger’s hand of four possible sites on Capitol Hill for the Folger Shakespeare Library. And the winner is? No. 2. (Image Folger Shakespeare Library)

“I finally concluded I would give it to Washington; for I am a patriot,” Folger affirmed. Before WWI, Washington was a sleepy southern town. Contributing to the literary and cultural enhancement of the political capital appealed to the Folgers. Perhaps without fully realizing the extent of their gift, the Folgers, in their quiet way, were responsible for an uptick in America’s reputation and prestige: the moment of arrival for the young country on the world scene as Europe’s equal, and, in some respects, superior.

Secrecy was a practice Folger applied to his real estate acquisitions as well as to his book buying. In 1918 he wrote to a land speculator known for his clandestine purchases asking him to “inquire very cautiously” about four locations on Capitol Hill. One, noted on city maps as “future gov’t building,” would become twenty years later the Supreme Court; that was a non-starter. A second became the Lutheran Church of the Reformation across 2nd Street NE from the Court on East Capitol Street. A third eventually became the Madison building of the Library of Congress. The Folgers decided on one of the most opulent blocks on the Hill: an assemblage of fourteen redbrick Italianate rowhouses known as Grant’s Row (no relation to the author). It cost Folger $317,000 and took him more than eight years to buy the properties on the 200 block of East Capitol Street SE. Henry Folger’s name appeared on no document related to the transaction: as a result, virtually no one knew he had become the owner.

In mid-January 1928, the Folgers read with horror a Washington Post article that a bill pending in Congress had identified Grant’s Row and the lot to the south for a Library of Congress annex. With trepidation, Henry wrote Herbert Putnam, the Librarian of Congress, “Should I give up the thought of making Washington the choice for a location [of my Shakespeare library]?” Without hesitation, an elated Dr. Putnam agreed to have the bill modified so that the annex would spare the Folgers’ property but occupy the remaining portion of the two lots. A wise Congress recognized the numerous benefits of having a private specialized library across the street from a public general library.

Fig. 3. Grant’s Row, the fourteen redbrick rowhouses built by Albert Grant (no relation) and which were demolished to make way for the Folger Shakespeare Library (Image Folger Shakespeare Library)

The Folgers would endow the library, build a decorative façade on its north side, and “dedicate this remarkable collection to the culture of the American public.” Both House and Senate passed the modified legislation unanimously. President Coolidge signed the bill (Public Law 70-453) into law on May 21, 1928.

It is fitting in April 2021, the 457th anniversary of Shakespeare’s birthday month, to celebrate the world-class Folger Shakespeare Library and its founders, who eighty-nine years ago defined the purpose of the research library: “give generations to come a better working knowledge and understanding of the works of the seventeenth century.”

(This post originally appeared on Johns Hopkins University Press Blog on July 21, 2014)

COLLECTING SHAKESPEARE:

The Story of Henry and Emily Folger

Just seven years ago, on the Ides of March 2014, Johns Hopkins University Press released COLLECTING SHAKESPEARE, the only biography about the founders of the Folger Shakespeare Library: Henry Clay Folger and Emily Jordan Folger. Since that time, the Folger and the world have celebrated the 450th anniversary of Shakespeare’s birth and 400th anniversary of his death.

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The Omni-Homestead, Hot Springs, Virginia

by Stephen H. Grant | Mar 16, 2021 | Books, Collecting, Folger, Literature, Shakespeare, Talk

George Washington visited Hot Springs, Va. on horseback in 1755 on an inspection tour of forts as protection against Indian attacks. The Homestead spa and resort was founded in 1766, a decade before our country. That made the hotel 250 years old in 2016. Thomas Jefferson wrote in his Memorandum Book that on August 13, 1818 he ate two meals at The Homestead and took the waters to the tune of $2.12 1/2. William Howard Taft was the keynote speaker there at the annual meeting of the Virginia Bar Association in August 1908. Woodrow Wilson and second wife, Edith, chose The Homestead for their Christmas honeymoon in 1915. Most every U.S. president since has visited the resort, where many indulge in the hotel’s most popular activity, golf. Hands down, The Homestead Hotel in Hot Springs, Virginia is one of the most prestigious locations in the country to hold a conference, treat the family to a vacation, bathe in the Jefferson pools, indulge in a dizzy array of spas, or . . . give a talk. It is located on U.S. 220 five miles south of Warm Springs in Bath County.

Hotel management conducted lively discussions on how to celebrate their first 250 years. Figuring that many people who would want to come could not, they quickly discarded the idea of a single Gala. The proposal that carried the day was a major surprise to the Pastry chefs: concoct and bake a unique cake flavor each of the 366 days of the year, and have 400 portions cut and ready to serve daily at 2:50 PM. Why this time? 2:50 is another way of saying 250. When I was there, the cake flavor was strawberry with vanilla oats.

Fig. 1. During its 250th year anniversary, the pastry chef concocted 366 different desserts.
This one was served on Mar. 12, 2016.

Fig. 2. On Mar. 12, 2016, partner Abigail Wiebenson and I blew out the birthday candle.

Another anniversary feature was to organize Fireside Chats: “Join us around the fire as influential guest speakers relay their experience with this historic resort,” read the flyer “Celebrating 250 years of Southern Hospitality.” While I had never been to The Homestead before, the SUBJECTS of my latest biography––Henry and Emily Folger––journeyed from Brooklyn to the resort 28 times from 1914 to 1929, spending over 600 days there. I was disappointed to learn that no record of the Folgers’ stays remains in the hotel archives, not even one photograph of the Folgers. Understandably not one of Emily in the baths, but what about Henry on the golf links? It is true that the Folgers were a reserved couple; they stayed below the radar. When the hotel’s director of Development and Communication learned that Collecting Shakespeare not only includes details about activities that Mr. and Mrs. Folger engaged in at the resort, but shares with the reader the numbers of the two hotel rooms they consistently rented, she invited me to come give a talk during the anniversary year. AND they put me up in the Folgers’ old Room, which you see below. What a thrill for a biographer! Moreover, the invitation to speak about Collecting Shakespeare fell in 2016, the 250th anniversary of The Homestead AND the 400th anniversary of Shakespeare’s death.

Fig. 3. Hotel management invited us to sleep in the Folger bedroom.

Fig. 4. This Fun Fact was slipped under every hotel room door.

As invited guest, my talk in the Tower Suite was entitled “Shakespeare Collectors and Homestead Guests.” I showed the audience invoices the Folgers kept of their stays, where we see what they spent for room rental: $16 a night. I projected on the screen picture postcards of The Homestead that I had obtained on eBay that showed how the resort looked a century ago. I left the original postcards in The Homestead archives.

Fig. 5. Wearing my Shakespeare tie, I contemplate the dining room frequented by the Folgers.

Fig. 6. I am not a golfer, but I borrowed a hickory putter to mimic Henry’s signature stance.

(This post was originally published on Johns Hopkins University Press Blog on July 27, 2016).

COLLECTING SHAKESPEARE:

The Story of Henry and Emily Folger

Just seven years ago, on the Ides of March 2014, Johns Hopkins University Press released COLLECTING SHAKESPEARE, the only biography about the founders of the Folger Shakespeare Library: Henry Clay Folger and Emily Jordan Folger. Since that time, the Folger and the world have celebrated the 450th anniversary of Shakespeare’s birth and 400th anniversary of his death.

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Postcards of the Folger:
Macbeth, Ivlivs Caesar, King Lear

by Stephen H. Grant | Mar 8, 2021 | Collecting, Deltiology, England, Folger, Postcards, Shakespeare

The next three bas-reliefs along the Folger’s north wall are Macbeth, Julius Caesar, and King Lear. The images shown here are from the same two sets of postcards that were discussed in the previous post.

Macbeth-Postcards-Stephen-Grant-collection

Fig. 1. Macbeth
Left: An AZO postcard
Right: A Meriden Gravure Co. postcard
(Author’s Collection, photo by Stephen Grant)

JuliusCaesar-Postcards-Stephen-Grant-collection

Fig. 2. Julius Caesar
Left: An AZO postcard
Right: A Meriden Gravure Co. postcard
Author’s Collection, photo by Stephen Grant

This post will focus on an anecdote related to the third of these bas-reliefs, the one of King Lear.

In the fall of 1929, principal architect Paul Cret and consulting architect Alexander Trowbridge identified four sculptors for the nine bas-reliefs project and asked them to prepare exhibits of their past work. Cret’s assistant John Harbeson accompanied the Folgers to view the exhibits. When the architects suggested that the Folgers visit each studio, Folger demurred: “I think you had better not bring us in until after you and Mr. Cret have decided upon the artist to be employed. After that it may be worth while to confer with the sculptor so as to make sure he clearly understands what we have in mind in the way of the designs he is to execute” (Folger Archives Box 57).

Trowbridge was struck by Mr. “Folger’s modesty, his deferring to the judgment of his architects on so important a matter as choice of a sculptor” (Folger Archives Box 57). After the architects confirmed that the British-born John Gregory was their first choice, the Folgers agreed to a studio visit. The Folgers liked what they saw. While there, Folger learned that Gregory, too, was a bibliophile who collected Charles Lamb and had studied Shakespeare’s influence on John Keats. This common passion created a bond between them and prompted Folger to make up his mind straightaway. “We need not visit any others,” he wrote to Trowbridge. “I am entirely satisfied to go ahead with Gregory; you fix up the contract, and bring it to me to see.” Estimating the work would require three years, Gregory agreed to start immediately.

In May 1930, the Folgers returned to the studio to assess Gregory’s progress. The sculptor showed his clients his model that was the farthest along, King Lear. As the couple departed, a relieved Gregory is reported to have heard Folger murmur, “I shall sleep well tonight.”

After the visit, Folger wrote Cret:

I will confess I have been much worried, fearing that he might not be equal to the task put upon him, but I was satisfied that you had, once more, made a successful choice in your assistant. I tried not to show too plainly that I was pleased with the work, and of course said little, or nothing, on the subject to Mr. Gregory, preferring, as I do in all cases, that what I say should reach him with your approval and through you as a medium, rather than direct; so I am now writing you, instead of communicating either by word of mouth or by letter, with him, and will leave it to your judgment what you will pass on to him as coming from me (Folger Archives Box 57).

While Folger generally liked what he saw, he nevertheless noticed some aspects that he was not quite satisfied with. In a letter to the architects—not the sculptor—Folger outlined his desires. He wanted to see a Lear a bit older and slightly more distraught. Lear’s upraised arms should be a little more muscular, the Fool a little younger. Cret conveyed these suggestions to Gregory, who made the changes. Alas, Folger never saw the modified version. By mid-June of 1930, Henry Folger had died.

KingLear-Postcards-Stephen-Grant-collection

Fig. 3. King Lear
Left: An AZO postcard
Right: A Meriden Gravure Co. postcard
(Author’s Collection, photo by Stephen Grant)

(This post was originally published on the Folger Shakespeare Library’s research blog The Collation on October 20, 2020.)

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San Salvador’s National Palace in El Salvador:
The Power of Postcards

by Stephen H. Grant | Feb 27, 2021 | Collecting, Culture, Deltiology, El Salvador, Exhibit, Postcards

The subject of this blog post is an historic building in downtown San Salvador, the capital of El Salvador in Central America. I lived and worked in San Salvador during the last four years of the millennium. It’s the only building I’ve ever been in that has 116 balconies and 414 doors. Here’s what it looks like today from the outside.

Fig. 1. Palacio Nacional, San Salvador, El Salvador

We learn from Wikipedia that “The building contains four main rooms and 101 secondary rooms; each of the four main rooms has a distinctive color. The Red Room (Salon Rojo) is used for receptions held by the Salvadoran Foreign Ministry, and the ceremonial presentation of ambassadors’ credentials. It has been used for ceremonial purposes since the administration of General Maximiliano Hernández Martínez. The Yellow Room (Salon Amarillo) is used as an office for the President of the Republic, while the Pink Room (Salon Rosado) housed the Supreme Court and later the Ministry of Defense. The Blue Room (Salon Azul) was the meeting place of the Legislature of El Salvador from 1906. The room is now called the Salvadoran Parliament in commemoration of its former purpose, and was declared a National Historic Landmark in 1974.”

Fig. 2. Captain General Gerardo Barrios, President of El Salvador 1859–1863

During the presidency of Captain General Gerardo Barrios (1813–1865) in El Salvador, from 1860 to 1863, the idea to build a National Palace was born. The original National Palace was built between 1866 and 1870 by José Dolores Melara (1847–1884) and Ildefonso Marín (?–1871). The exterior was in masonry on the first floor and wood and stamped sheet metal on the second floor.

The first test of its solidity came in 1873, during the San José Earthquake. A total renovation was required, which was terminated in 1875. The palace perished in 1889 by arson. In the calamity disappeared not only the largest and most elegant structure in El Salvador, and also the national and federal archives stored on the first floor. After the fire, the artillery garrison and military police station were temporarily established on the grounds of the palace.

The design of the second National Palace was the work of the Salvadorans, José Emilio Alcaine (1866–1963) and Pascacio Gonzáles Erazo (1848–1917). Construction began in 1905 under President Pedro José Escalón (1847–1923). Responsable for the supervision of the construction was the Salvadoran writer and General, José Maria Peralta Lagos (1873–1944). The Italian engineer Alberto Ferracutti (1875–1966) installed the wide, imposing stairways. The building was inaugurated in 1911 by President General Fernando Figueroa (1852–1919).

Fig. 3. General Fernando Figueroa, President of El Salvador 1907–1911

The style is French and Italian Renaissance, with Roman arches as well as Greek influences, with Ionic columns on the first floor and Corinthian on the second. The main materials used in the construction were imported: marble and pink granite from Italy; stamped sheet metal and crystal chandeliers from Belgium; and metal beams from Germany. There are four entryways to the building, which contains 116 marble balconies and 414 doors. Much of the work was contracted in Europe, but skilled Salvadoran laborers did the interior decorative work in moulded plaster. The false ceilings were all of imported sheet metal, painted in El Salvador with intricate designs. The edifice was solid enough to withstand seismic disturbances in 1915, 1917, 1919, 1965, and 1986.

Now let’s introduce the postcards! In Fig. 4., the building is facing Bolívar Park (now Barrios Plaza). The building seen to the right is the National Treasury. The photographer is standing in the middle of the Avenida Cuscatlán (now Avenida España-Cuscatlán).

Thr honor guard in dress whites most likely signifies the president is about to enter or leave the palace. He traveled in a horse-drawn carriage called a « Victoria, » visible in the center, imported into El Salvador around 1915. The black vehicle, which lacks a license plate in the rear, may be a 1931 Ford Phaeton. It also might have been used to bring a visiting head of state or other dignatary to the palace. On the lower palace steps several men in dark uniforms are saluting.

Fig. 4. Postcard of the National Palace, Historic Center of San Salvador c1932
Source: Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards, p95

Fig. 5. Reverse side of postcard Fig. 4. c1932
Source: Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards, p97

In Fig. 5., the word « DEFENDER » written in capitals on the reverse side of postcards indicates that the photo paper was produced in the United States by the Dupont Company. The DEFENDER logo on this card was used from 1920 to 1940. Since we have no postmark or message including the date, I have to guess ; I’ll say c1932.

Uses of the palace have changed over the years. From the 1920s until the 1980s, the palace housed the legislature, the Supreme Court, and various government ministries. It was used for diplomatic receptions and popular dances. Since 1987, the Ministry of Education through the « Consejo Nacional para la Cultura y el Arte (CONCULTURA) » has been restoring the palace, a monumental task.

Fig. 6. National Palace Façade with Statue of Christopher Columbus 1998

Two statues are visible on either side of the central portico of the palace. They represent Christopher Columbus and Queen Elizabeth of Spain, and were gifts from the Spanish King Alfonso XIII in 1924.

Fig. 7. Norfolk pine trees in central courtyard of National Palace

Towering over the National Palace are five Norfolk Pines planted to represent the five states that established themselves on July 1, 1823 as the United Provinces of Central America: El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, and Costa Rica. You see the pines also in Fig. 1.

Now we turn to the main postcard featured in the article. While the previous postcard was « postally unused » or « unposted » in the jargon (never sent through the mail), this one was « postally used. » I prefer acquiring postally used cards, for you have have a chance for a four-in-one: a picture, a message, a postage stamp, and a postmark. The story-telling possibilities are greatly enhanced.

Fig. 8. Postcard of Congressional Hall of National Palace 1912
Source: Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards, p99

The title of this postcard is, « Palacio Nacional, Salón del Congreso, San Salvador. » Under the title on the card is the handwritten date, July 12, 1912, that the postcard was sent from San Salvador to Havana, Cuba. Notice the unusual way the year 1912 is abbreviated, « 912. » This postcard was sold by the Librería y Papelería Moderna in San Salvador, founded in 1883.

This room was referred to either as the « Salón del Congreso » (Congressional Room), or as the « Salón Azul » (Blue Room). It is where the National Assembly deliberated. The room also served for the swearing in of new presidents. It was located on the second floor of the National Palace inaugurated in 1911. This room faced the 1a Avenida Sur, that is, west. The interior colors were, reportedly, blue, white, and gold. The Blue Room is where the coffin of assassinated President Dr. Manuel Enrique Araujo (1865–1913) lay in state for two days.

Fig. 9. Dr. Manuel Enrique Araujo, President of El Salvador 1911–1913

Fig. 10. Photographer interested in 1912 postcard of Congressional Hall of National Palace

I put on several exhibits of my collection of Salvadoran postcards in San Salvador, notably at the American Embassy and the Museo Nacional de Antropologia Dr. David. J. Guzman. Fig. 10. shows a Salvadoran photographer who came to my home in San Benito to photograph this very postcard. What he did with the photo I never heard. Creatively, he achieved the desired angle with my embroidered pillows from Ivory Coast.

It is fairly rare to see an interior scene on picture postcards. It is all the more of historical interest to see the interior of the legislature in El Salvador, as so few people had access to this room, or could even imagine what it looked like. A warning about the color, however, The photograph was taken originally in black and white. Later color was added through a process of « hand tinting » before the postcard was mass produced. The colors are do not necessarily reflect the original colors.

Although « Nando’s » last name is not written anywhere on this postcard, I found out what it is: Gallegos. In 1997, I acquired in France an important collection of postcards which had been sent from San Salvador over the period 1900–1914 with the complete name Fernando Gallegos, to two sisters named « Bousquet » in Havana, Cuba.

I tried to find out whether there was any record of a Bousquet family in El Salvador. By consulting old newspapers in the National Library in San Salvador, I learned that Pablo Bousquet (d. 1902) was an importer/exporter in San Salvador during the period, 1895–1900. In his store in Plazuela Santa Lucia (today July 14th Square), Pablo sold musical instruments, rugs, perfume, silks, woolens and cottons. hats, and toys. My theory is that the elder Bousquets sent their two daughters to study in Havana. Since « Bousquet » is a French name, I speculate that their family and their many trunks eventually returned from Cuba to France and that is why the cards reappeared in that country 90 years later. In the San Salvador cemetery I located the tombs of Pablo as well as Laura Bousquet and Soledad de Bousquet, who may have been related to the Cuban branch.

The correspondent was Fernando Gallegos (1888–1923). He was one of seven children of Salvador Gallegos Valdés (1844–1919) and Elena Rosales (1862–1926). The father was Salvadoran Minister of Foreign Relations in the 1880s, and also served as ambassador to several European countries. The family lived on the corner of Avenida Cuscatlán and 4a Calle Oriente, diagonally across from the National Palace. Let’s turn the postcard over.

Fig. 11. Reverse side of postcard Fig. 8. 1912
Source: Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards, p101

« Amiga mía : Sus anunciadas 5 postales aún no han llegado a mis manos a pesar de que han llegado a este rinconcito tres correos más del exterior. Pero es la intención la que vale, y las dos por recibidas. Ya recibió mis otros envíos ? suyo affmo, Nando. »

« My friend, your announced 5 postcards have not arrived from abroad in this little place despite three more mail arrivals. But it is the thought that counts, and I consider that they are as well as here. Did you receive my other mailings? Your affectionate Nando. »

The message in most of Nando’s postcards centered on the topic of postcard collecting. He clearly was exchanging many postcards with the sisters, and concerned when the mail did not get through. As a postcard collector––or deltiologist––myself, I felt a special kinship with Nando. Some of his messages to the sisters referred to historical and political events in El Salvador; one message was romantic.

During the years of this correspondence, Fernando was a medical student at the University of El Salvador. He never completed his medical studies, however. Some say he hit his head from a fall off a horse. The result was he lost his mind, and was sent to an asylum in California where he died. A family photograph taken in 1915 shows all seven Gallegos children, with the exception of Fernando. Since the latest postcard in my collection that he sent dates from June 1914, it is thought that sometime in 1914–1915 he suffered his infirmity and was sent to the United States.

Figs. 2., 3., and 9. are close-up photos that I took of three Salvadoran presidents whose portraits are displayed in the Red Room. In Fig. 12., I give you an idea of the elaborate setting for the presidential portrait gallery.

Fig. 12. Presidential portrait gallery in Palacio Nacional

The Blue Room was being restored (in 1998) by CONCULTURA.

Fig. 13. Restoration crew a 1998

Fig. 14. Restoration crew b 1998

The restoration crew offered to take me around, first by showing me rooms where both walls and ceilings were in dire need of repair.

Fig. 15. Damaged ceiling awaiting renovation 1998

Fig. 16. Damaged wall awaiting renovation 1998

Then they took me to admire the restorations. The difference was stunning.

Fig. 17. Repaired wall and ceiling during renovation 1998

Fig. 18. Blue Room repaired a

Fig. 19. Blue Room repaired b

One of the crew pointed out to me the intertwined gesso « S » and « A » for Salón Azul.

Fig. 20. Initials « S » and « A » for Salón Azul 1998

All during my lengthy visit, I had something up my sleeve. Unbeknownst to the restorers, among the 1,476 postcards of El Salvador that I had collected was one of the National Palace interior!

When I dramatically brought out of a folder I had been carrying an enlarged copy of my postcard in Fig. 8., it produced on the part of one member of the crew a cry of astonishment! She said, « Stephen, we’ve been wondering what color pallette was used in the original paint job in the Blue Room, and could find no early images in our own archives. And here you show up with a color postcard just in the nick of time. » The power of a postcard lay in the utility to help inspire restoration efforts in an historical edifice, a national treasure. I’ll not forget the day: it was Thursday, April 30, 1998 at 10:30 am.

Fig. 21. Look of astonishment on face of restoration crew member1998

Two years later, I was invited to attend a meeting of the National Archives staff located in the National Palace. The formalities started off with the singing of the National Anthem. (Excuse the out-of-focus photo.)

Fig. 22. Singing the National Anthem in the National Palace with members of National Archives 2000

Before my departure for Washington, D.C. where I was reassigned for the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID), I returned to the National Palace to present a complimentary copy of Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards to the Director of the National Archives (Fig. 23.).

Fig. 23. Presentation of “Early Salvadoran Postcards” book to Director of National Archives 2000

Finally, Figs. 24. and 25. display the letter of acknowledgement I received from Eugenia López, Director of the National Archives.

Fig. 24. Letter of Gratitude from Director of National Archives 2000, p1

Fig. 25. Letter of Gratitude from Director of National Archives 2000, p2

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Picture Postcards of France III

by Stephen H. Grant | Feb 16, 2021 | Collecting, Deltiology, French, Guinée/Guinea, Postcards, Travel

In November 2020, I launched a series of autobiographical blog posts entitled “Picture Postcards of France” with this initial post: https://stephenhgrant.com/picture-postcards-of-france-1/. I presented 9 postcards of these locations: Paris, Port-de-Bouc, Marseille, Cannes, Nice, Grasse, La Ferté-sous-Jouarre, and Lizy-sur-Ourcq.

The second “Postcards of France” post presented 6 humorous cards I had received in the mail over the years: https://stephenhgrant.com/picture-postcards-of-france-2/.

During Covid, I find myself producing deltiological memoirs. (Deltiology is the study of postcards.) I hope you find the posts interesting and informative.

At Annick Pasquet’s and my wedding in Grasse in 1965, all four of our parents were present. None of the eight grandparents attended, although two French grandmothers and one American grandmother were alive. One of the French grandmothers lived in Brittany. Her name was Adeline née Robin Roullet. She was a character. She was known to have said “I am never going to leave Brittany because I do not want to die anywhere else.” Her husband Jules Roullet had died on Nov. 19, 1957 at age 72. Adeline referred to him as “feu mon bonhomme.” Annick’s mother, Raymonde Roullet, was the only child of Jules and Adeline. Adeline Roullet died on Nov. 13, 1982, at age 92. In sections of this blog post you will read how a grandchild and two great grandchildren remember Adeline.

Annick’s family traveled by train every summer to visit her maternal grandmother in the Department of Loire Atlantique. Adeline lived alone in a house not in a city or a town or a l village, but in a “lieu dit.” Within Communes there exist administrative divisions referred to as a “lieu-dit” (literally “said location”). It is a toponymic term for a small geographical area bearing a traditional name. One of the “lieux-dits” (plural) in the Commune of Fégréac is Pont-Miny. The locality’s population may consist of 100 souls.

We are talking about one of the most rural places in France. The “Pont” of “Pony-Miny” referred to a real bridge, one of the small bridges over the canal from Nantes to Brest. The canal’s construction was completed in 1836; it is 240 mi. long and contains 238 locks.

Annick introduced me to members of her family who also made the trip in the summer to Pont-Miny from the locations where they lived during the year. The names I recall now in 2021 are the following. Arthur Claes, a Belgian, whose profession was to make trumpets. Then Paulette & René, Daniel & Anne Boissay. Across the street from where Adeline lived were houses that appear in a few postcards produced around the time of WWI. Living in them during the year were Georgette and Tante Elise. Annick related that other relatives of a previous generation who had lived across the street from her grandmother did not have names. I asked her, “What do you mean, no names.” “Well, we never knew their names.” “Then, what did you call them”? “One was called Quatre Pattes. And his son we all referred to as Fils de Quatre Pattes.” I found this story clochemerlesque!

This third “Postcards of France” post features the French Administrative Region of Brittany. Brittany in northwestern France has a population of five million people. This theme is personal for me, as I married a French lady with maternal roots in Brittany, Annick. That name is the Celtic form of Anne. The post will contain three stories in italics, in this order, from these people: my son Yonel, my daughter Sylviane, and my former sister-in-law, Michele. Then making a brief appearance is my former mother-in-law, Raymonde, in a comment on an old picture postcard depicting washing day in the town of Dubreka in Guinea. But first, more French geography.

Fig. 1. Map of France Indicating Brittany (Wikipedia)

The geographic term “Department” of France is one of the three levels of government below the national level and between administrative regions and communes. I will highlight the Department of “Loire-Atlantique” but it was not always thusly named. Wikipedia informs us that “Loire-Atlantique is one of the original 83 Departments created during the French Revolution. Originally, it was named Loire-Inférieure, but its name was changed in 1957 to Loire-Atlantique. The area is part of the historical Duchy of Brittany, and contains what many people still consider to be Brittany’s capital, Nantes.”

Fig. 2. Region of France Indicating Pays de la Loire (Microsoft Maps)

In the 1950s, the country was divided up into 18 regions, “Pays de la Loire” is one of the 18 regions of France, in the west of the mainland, to serve as a zone of influence for its capital, Nantes.”

Fig. 3. Trade Card of Loire-Inférieure (Author’s collection)

This is not a postcard, but a “trade card” with smaller dimensions. The featured trade is chocolate making. The artisans are Trappist monks in the Aiguebelle Abbey in the Department of the Drome. What is their slogan, you might ask? “I melt for you!” “Nantes” is written in big capital letters.

The geographic term “Commune” of France is the lowest administrative division in France. It represents all parts of a town or a village. Let’s look at two postcards from two communes in Loire-Atlantique: Saint-Gildas-des-Bois and Saint-Nicolas-de-Redon (in the Breton language, Sant-Nikolaz-an-Hent). Both communes are on the trade card map, in the northwestern corner, circled in red.

Fig. 4. Commune of Saint-Gildas-des-Bois in Loire-Atlantique (Author’s collection)

In this undated card, the scene shows fenced-in farm animals in front of the village parish, stone residences and administrative buildings, where the rural bumps right up against the town. The photographer was named Rialland.

Fig. 5. Commune of Saint-Nicolas-de-Redon in Loire-Atlantique (Author’s collection)

In postcard #1585 sent in 1908, mothers clad in black have brought their clothes on hand-made wooden wheel barrows down to the “Canal from Nantes to Brest” for washing. Women are kneeling or on hands and knees, and have pails or tubs. Some wear the traditional “coiffes,” headwear from Brittany. Behind the double row of poplar trees one sees white laundry already hanging up to dry. Two children turn their backs on the washing scene, perhaps intrigued by the photographer’s equipment. The photographer with studio in Nantes is Vassellier.

Fégréac is a commune in the Loire-Atlantique Department too small to have made it into the Aiguebelle map! Postcard #1067 of the “Canal de Nantes a Brest” was sent in 1913. The single row of trees is in bloom. Two fishermen stand on the right, and a boatman to the left stands up in his hand-made wooden boat. The photographer is identified as Lacroix Chateaubriant.

Fig. 6. Commune of Fégréac in Loire-Atlantique (Author’s collection)

A boatman and a fisherman are pictured in Fig. 6. photo by Lacroix taken somewhere in Fégréac.

Fig. 7. Pont-Miny in the Commune of Fégréac (Google Maps)

Fig. 8. Adeline’s house in Pont-Miny, Loire Atlantique (Wikipedia)

Fig. 7. shows the Rue de Pont Miny. Fig. 8. Points out with a magenta circle Adeline’s house on the rue de Pont Miny. In the following two descriptions, my son Yonel Grant and daughter Sylviane Grant encapsulate what Pont-Miny means for them.

Written by Yonel Grant, November 2020

Throughout the 1970s and into the 80s every summer my mother Annick, sister Sylviane and I flew back from Boston in August and after changing planes in Paris, we would fly into Nantes Chateau Bougon airport to spend 10 days with my great-grandmother Adeline in Pont Miny. There were plenty of people around – uncles, aunts, cousins. My father Steve accompanied us sometimes but typically it was just the three of us. At that time, Pont Miny had a population of about 100. In my child’s eyes, everyone in sight was a VERY senior citizen except the two kids at the farm next door. I loved seeing my great-grandmother again and settling into the Pont Miny life. From the outdoor toilet (a simple outhouse) to the outlook of the people it was always a culture shock––a healthy one for us kids.

One of my fondest memories was collecting blackberries. In this region of France, French farms dominate the countryside, alternating cattle and wheat fields. Huge blackberry bushes grew on both sides of the fences and by late summer the blackberries grow a luxuriant shiny black. You can even smell them. When the family decided to collect berries, it was a serious affair. We’d go out in two or three cars with metal and plastic buckets, plastic tubs, reed baskets woven by my great-grandfather. Seven to ten of us (i.e., everyone in the household except for grand-mere Adeline) would fan out and pick and eat, pick and pick, until 2–3 hours later we’d had enough. Enough meant 20 pounds or more of the black stuff. Most of us were scratched from head to toe from the bramble (apart from some wiser adults who had remembered to wear long sleeves), our clothes stained and our tongues dark purple. Grand-mere Adeline would cook the blackberries in a huge brass pot right in the chimney, and for the rest of the stay we would have the best jam in the world for breakfast.

Fig. 9. The Farm Nearby Grandmere Adeline’s house in Pont-Miny (Wikipedia)

The farm area of which Sylviane writes is circled in magenta.

Written by Sylviane Grant, December 2020

As a child, mornings in Pont-Miny (Brittany) began with fetching milk from the nearby farm. As I came downstairs, Adeline, my French great grandmother, would greet me with a smile, a peck on both cheeks, and hand me an empty terracotta pitcher. Careful not to drop it, I’d walk through the back door and along a dirt path lined with a thicket of tall trees and thorny blackberry bushes, towards the sound of the cows calling through a cacophony of chirping birds. Across from Adeline’s modest house, chicken coop and large barn, tree-lined fields extended as far as the eye could see. Solid stone ruins heroically stood along the path, vestiges of World War II, when the village, including Adeline’s home, had been bombed by Germany. It had since been rebuilt with simple 1-2 story white or grey stucco homes, some so close as to share a common wall. Gazing at the stone remains, I imagined how the village had looked in its former charming glory. A few of Adeline’s chickens, who’d preceded me outside, pecked along the path, while others had vanished into nature. At dusk, she’d call: “Petits, petits, petits!” and they’d obediently scurry back across the path and into their coop through a chicken-sized door.

As one neared the farm, cow calls grew stronger, as did the earthy scent of manure and hay. The family-owned farm was comprised of several huge fields where the cows grazed during the day, 3 massive barns as well as other austere looking buildings positioned around a central courtyard. The milking barn doors were flung open; inside, thirty or so black and white cows stood chained side by side, facing a feeder wall. Their names, Marguerite, Rose, Lorette, Ginette, Magali, Maude, Jackie, Berthe, etc., were inscribed on chalkboard plaques affixed to the wall above their heads. Visitors entering the building were greeted by their imposing rears and flickering tails. The farmer’s wife was always working, seated on a 3-legged stool, using a handheld milking machine with tubes pouring the milk into large aluminum vats. She’d return my greeting, smile and reach out for my pitcher.

I carefully maneuvered my way home over potholes to avoid spilling the precious liquid. Adeline would heat it up and make steaming café au lait (coffee with milk) and lait au chocolat (chocolate milk) for the family to enjoy with breakfast. Her “tartines”, topped with Brittany butter and a fragrant layer of her homemade “gelée de mûres” (Blackcurrant jelly), were delicious. She made her jams and jellies in a large copper pot, from the large baskets of wild berries or fruit we picked in the area during our afternoon walks. Adeline grew and raised most of what she consumed. Her vegetable garden and fruit trees fed the whole family. She had no refrigerator but stored perishables in a thick-walled cellar which remained cold during the hottest of days. Her potatoes, beans, pears and cabbages lasted her throughout the winter. Her hens provided fresh eggs daily, and she occasionally prepared a chicken from her coop. On a weekly basis, a vendor would stop his van in front of her house to sell residents fresh regional cheeses, fish, or household item. The farm is since long gone, as is the vendor with the van. Adeline’s house now has a refrigerator, but my appreciation for the times when such a luxury didn’t exist remains.

Below, my former sister-in-law Michèle Pasquet and my former mother-in-law Raymonde Pasquet write about summer vacation in Pont-Miny and visiting Guinea, respectively.

“La grosse fraise” par Michèle Pasquet, Novembre 2020

Grand’mère Adeline nous attendait à Pont-Miny, son village en Bretagne,( à 10 Kms de Redon et 45 kms de St Nazaire) impatiemment, chaque année, pour notre unique passage annuel, du mois d’août au mois d’octobre. Quand nous arrivions chez elle, (après notre long voyage en train depuis notre domicile à Port-de-Bouc, près de Marseille, à plus de 1 000 kms), en un quart de tour, nous étions déjà éparpillés dans le village ou dans le jardin. Il nous fallait, malgré la bonne taille de la maison, être dehors tout de suite, pour sentir les vacances commencer ! .
Chacun avait dans la tête ses petits rendez-vous : soit les retrouvailles avec la copine, ou les cousins, soit le bord du canal (appelé canal de Nantes à Brest), soit le jardin avec ce qu’il pouvait y avoir de nouveau !… les poules et leurs poussins nés à Pâques, les arbres fruitiers (en particulier les poiriers avec leurs bonnes poires William, si délectables qu’on les savoure à l’avance) avec ce qu’ils avaient de prometteur dans l’été, puis les salades, le persil, les carottes, les poireaux, les oignons, les rutabagas …, tout ce qui permettait à Grand’mère de nous réjouir les papilles, soupe comprise !…
J’avais, pour ma part, mis en priorité de revoir ma copine Monique et de jeter un œil discret aux deux rangées de fraisiers que notre grand’mère entretenait avec le plus grand soin, chaque année.
Cette partie du jardin était de toute beauté ! Grand’mère Adeline mettait toute son énergie et son âme pour retourner la terre noire et brillante, bien arrosée par l’eau abondante du ciel breton. J’étais toujours frappée par le beau damier des salades au vert vernissé, pommées et craquantes quand nous les mangions ! Côté fleurs, je faisais aussi l’inspection : le camélia apparemment avait bien traversé l’hiver, sans geler et jaunir ses pompons blancs (Adeline fournissait souvent un gros bouquet aux jeunes mariés du voisinage … . Le laurier-sauce avait encore grandi, le muguet s’étalait à ses pieds (il a gardé son emplacement encore aujourd’hui !), et surtout, en bordure du potager, j’admirais les dahlias géants avec leurs énormes corolles, jaunes et pourpres qui trônaient ensuite sur le buffet de Grand’mère, lui procurant une grande fierté.
A notre arrivée en juillet, les rangs de fraisiers laissaient apparaître ça et là des fraises rougeoyantes, de taille différente,
en grand nombre.
« – Grand’mère ! Grand’mère ! lui criais-je avec toute la force de mes cordes vocales, viens voir !
Ma grand’mère accourut, pensant à un événement majeur…
– Eh bien, qu’y a- t il ? Interrogea t-elle, en notant rien d’anormal.
– Mais tu l’as vue !?
– Mais quoi, dis-moi ! Qu’ est-ce que tu me racontes ?
– Eh bien, c’est une fraise, pas comme les autres, énorme, ENORme, franchement ENORME !!!
– En effet ! Tu as raison ! Elle a la taille presque d’un oeuf ! dit-elle me confirmant ainsi la rareté de ma découverte… Elle rajouta :
– Elle sera, quand elle sera mûre, pour le plus sage d’entre vous, car je ne pourrai pas la partager en sept !… ». (La famille nombreuse venait encore entraver la situation… )
Cette promesse me parut alors judicieuse et je me mis, les jours suivants, en position de lauréate.
Je faisais attention à tout : j’évitais de dire des gros mots, j’aidais à mettre les nombreuses assiettes sur la table, à me tenir droite sur mon siège, à ne pas mettre les coudes sur la table, à bien finir mon assiette, à chercher les petits services à rendre, bref à être gentille car j’avais bien envie de gagner la grosse fraise !. Je me demandais si elle aurait un goût de vraie fraise comme celles de d’habitude. J’étais à la fois habitée par la gourmandise et la curiosité. Je voulais en faire mon affaire ! .
Quelques jours passèrent sans en reparler. Il me semblait que seules, ma Grand’mère et moi, partagions l’image de la grosse fraise, l’idée de son destin et de son attribution. Furtivement tous les jours, j’allais lui jeter un œil en priant qu’il n’y ait pas un intrus, comme une limace ou un escargot qui passerait à table avant moi !…
Enfin, me disais-je, cela devrait être le bon moment de cueillir ce fruit miraculeux maintenant parvenu à sa pleine maturité. D’un pas conquérant, j’avançais dans la rangée des fraisiers, sûre de ma discrétion.
Je prenais mon temps pour scruter cette rangée aux fruits si délicats qui rougeoyaient si vite dans la chaleur enveloppante de juillet… je voyais déjà nos petites assiettes de dessert remplies de ces savoureuses fraises, léchées par chacun, en cachette bien sûr, pour ne rien perdre du bon jus !…
Pendant que j’élucubrais ainsi, un doute me traversa : bizarre, bizarre ! … J’ avais du mal à poser mes yeux sur le fameux trésor ! Mais où était-il donc passé ? Je ne voulais pas crier tout fort mon trouble et à toutes enjambées, j’allais trouver ma Grand’mère dans sa cuisine.
« – Je ne comprends rien, je ne vois plus la grosse fraise ! » lui disais-je, toute essoufflée.
– Comment ça !? Tu ne la vois plus ? Ce n’est pas possible, je ne l’ai pas cueillie !!
Allons au jardin regarder ça ensemble ! »
Elle me prit par la main et nous courûmes ensemble jusqu’au fraisier tant convoité. Le constat navrant de la disparition de la fraise éléphantesque se confirma…
Ma Grand’mère, très embarrassée, fit son enquête, telle Sherloch Holmes …
Il s’avéra que le chenapan fautif fut mon grand frère qui, croyant bien faire, nous expliqua t-il, se l’attribua, en toute sérénité, étant donné qu’il aurait été ridicule de la partager en sept, et qu’en somme, il s’était dévoué pour éviter cette situation cornélienne !

(Great) grandmother Adeline Roullet & granddaughter Michèle collecting morning eggs in Pont-Miny

Fig. 10. Ma visite à la Guinée en 1991 par Raymonde Pasquet (Photo by author)

Raymonde Pasquet, my former mother-in-law, visited our family in Conakry, Guinea, for several weeks in 1991. That year, my first of three postcard books was published; it was a collaborative effort: Durr, P., Grant, S., Sivan, S., Tompapa, E., Images de Guinée. Conakry, Guinea: Imprimerie Mission Catholique, 1st ed. 1991, 2^nd ed. 1994, 147 pp. She chose one page of the book on which to consolidate impressions of her visit:

Ce payseage est très évocateur pour moi de la Guinée profonde telle que je l’ai découverte à travers mes promendades avec Annick et au cours de la visite d’une semaine avec Steve des écoles de villages. J’ai conservé un souvenir émerveillé de la nature exubérante, de la vie simple et authentique des habitants, de leur hospitalité––comme j’ai été frappé par l’application des écoliers et l’ardeur des maîtres nouvellement impliqués dans l’enseignement du français. Je remercie mes enfants de m’avoir permis cette approche de la vie réelle de la Guinée.

Fig. 11. Raymonde Visiting a Charity that Makes Prosthetics (Photo by author)

In Guinea, I worked two years as head of the education and training office at USAID, the foreign assistance program of the US government. I invited Raymonde to accompany me and my Guinean counterpart on a week’s tour of elementary schools upcountry. An extra bonus of the trip was to visit a center that manufactured wheelchairs and prosthetic devices for some the disabled Guinean population. Let me say that Raymonde’s appearance in a Guinean village was a huge hit. What did villagers notice first and comment on? All her white hair. They said they had never seen a person with so much white hair. Guineans––both men and women––with white hair tend to cut it very short. And there are many fewer people with white hair because Guineans die much younger than do, say, French people. Raymonde always drew a crowd; there are 12 people here. The crowd thanked her for stopping in the village and meeting them; especially her shaking hands with them individually meant a lot.

Fig. 12. Postcard of Canal at Pont-Miny #1 (Author’s collection)

When I showed Raymonde the picture postcards of Pont-Miny that I had acquired at flea markets in Paris or Nice, or in Parisian postcard boutiques, she looked them over carefully. Her reaction was, “I remember that these were the postcards being sent when I was young growing up here, but I don’t recognize any of the people on the cards.” Postcard #1 shows three men and two women smiling and looking toward the photographer as they pose above the canal. The card was mailed in Fégréac in 1914 and sent to a doctor in Nantes.

Fig. 13. Postcard of Canal at Pont-Miny #2 (Author’s collection)

The photo for postcard #2 was taken from the other side of the road. The “X” over the double-chimneyed stone house might have been where the correspondent Louise was staying when she sent the card in 1923 to a couple in the 7th arrondissement in Paris. The card is quite artistic with the reflection of the canal that a local uniformed official is contemplating. A second behatted man is leaning against the railing on the canal bank.

Fig. 14. Postcard of Canal at Pont-Miny #3 (Author’s collection)

Postcard #3 is the same as postcard #2, but not quite. In the lower left of #2 there is one bush; in #3, two bushes are visible. The cards were produced by the same Monsieur F Chapeau, publisher in Nantes. One wonders why one card bears a ten-centime stamp and the other a twenty-five-centime stamp.

Fig. 15. Postcard of Canal at Pont-Miny #4 (Author’s collection)

Postcard #4 leads us back across to the other side. It’s another F. Chapeau card from Nantes. It gives a full-length view of a vintage canal barge used for freight.

Fig. 16. Postcard of Canal at Pont-Miny #5a (Author’s collection)

If in the first postcards men were dominant, in this last card girls and ladies have taken over. Clothed either in white or in black, the women are fishing.

Fig. 17. Postcard of Canal at Pont-Miny #5b (Author’s collection)

To conclude this blog post, we evoke the message by a young hand on the reverse side of postcard #5, confirming the essential rural nature of Pont-Miny which could not be expressed more simply or aptly than by the phrase, “Je vais garder les vaches avec Marie” (I will tend the cows with Marie). But wait, I believe this youngster is a budding deltiologist! She asks, “tache de m’envoyer une carte du croisic” (try to send me a card from Le Croisic). Look for Le Croisic in Fig. 3. on the coast of the Department of Loire-Inférieure.

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Postcards of the Folger:
Midsommer, Romeo and Ivliet, Merchant of Venice
They Don’t Know How to Spell, No Nude!

by Stephen H. Grant | Feb 7, 2021 | Collecting, Deltiology, England, Folger, Postcards, Shakespeare

It is my pleasure to show you two early sets of picture postcards of the Folger’s bas-reliefs designed by John Gregory. On the left you have photographic cards printed on Kodak (AZO) Paper. I’m hoping someone will identify the photographer. On the right you have gravure cards printed by the Meriden Gravure Company of Meriden CT. Unlike the AZO postcards, which are photographs printed on light-sensitive paper, the gravure postcards are printed with printing ink on cardstock. The photographer for 8 of the 9 gravure cards is credited on the back of each postcard as Theodor Horydczak. The first three panels are presented here in the order (from left to right) in which they appear on the Library façade at 201 East Capitol St., SE.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Left: An AZO postcard
Right: A Meriden Gravure Co. postcard
(Author’s Collection, photos by Stephen Grant)

Romeo and Juliet
Left: An AZO postcard
Right: A Meriden Gravure Co. postcard
(Author’s Collection, photos by Stephen Grant)

Merchant of Venice
Left: An AZO postcard
Right: A Meriden Gravure Co. postcard
(Author’s Collection, photos by Stephen Grant)

The gravures show the name of the Shakespeare play as it is carved in the block of marble. The AZO photos lack enough contrast for the carving to show up, so they have superimposed the play titles in white letters. Note the difference in the gravure shadows compared to AZOs: the gravures clearly show the shadows, whereas the AZOs lack the contrast.

On Aug. 2, 1929 the Folgers made known to their principal architect, Paul Philippe Cret, the plays and the scenes from Shakespeare’s plays they had selected for the bas-reliefs (Folger Archives Box 57). On Aug. 9, 1929, Folger wrote to Cret again regarding the inscriptions they chose for the upper north façade. One of the quotes, from Ben Jonson, includes “Thou art a Moniment without a tombe.” Folger insisted that his architects and sculptors reproduce the historical spelling.

Detail of 1934 photograph by Horydczak showing the Jonson quotation.
(Folger Archives Black Box 6) (Image from LUNA, click for full version)

Folger consulting architect Alexander Trowbridge reported years later that as the Jonson quote and other inscriptions were being chiseled into the marble, a visitor frantically appeared at the door. “I thought I had better come in and tell you that the men who are doing the carving outside don’t know how to spell. They’ve got ‘mirror’ spelt with a ‘v’ and ‘again’ spelt with a final ‘e.’ You’d probably better go out and stop them before they spoil the whole wall.” (James Waldo Fawcett, “Charm of Ordinary Print,” Sunday Star, Jan. 24, 1932)

None of these 6 postcards is dated, bears a postage stamp, was sent through the mail, or carries a message. None has a serial number. I’ll show the reverse side of one AZO and two gravures (from a different postcard in the same series).

Top: reverse side of an AZO postcard
Bottom Left: reverse side of a Meriden Gravure Co. postcard without Horydczak’s name
Bottom Right: reverse side of a Meriden Gravure Co. postcard with Horydczak’s name
(all from Author’s Collection, photos by Stephen Grant)

In addition to the printed POST CARD, CORRESPONDENCE, AND ADDRESS, note what is printed in the upper right-hand corner besides PLACE STAMP HERE: on all four sides is printed AZO. AZO is a silver chloride photographic printing paper manufactured by Eastman Kodak.

There is a reason that I show two versions of the reverse side of a Meriden Gravure Co. Hamlet postcard. One identifies the photographer as Horydczak, and the other does not identify the photographer. Perhaps Horydczak noticed that the printer has neglected to attribute the photo of the Hamlet panel to him and made a stink?

Finally, a comment on the Midsummer Night’s Dream panel. It is not generally known that John Gregory’s original model included a nude. According to a letter in the Cret Papers, held at the University of Pennsylvania, on June 20, 1930, Trowbridge wrote Cret, “Mrs. Folger did not like the idea of having a nude figure.” Gregory replaced it with a depiction of Bottom with the donkey’s head.

(This post was originally published on the Folger Shakespeare Library’s research blog The Collation on September 20, 2020.)

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Travel to England by Henry and Emily Folger, 1903 – 1923

by Stephen H. Grant | Jan 30, 2021 | Books, Collecting, England, Folger, Library, Shakespeare, Travel

Henry Folger was unlike his executive colleagues at the Standard Oil Company in New York who vacationed in Florida and California or cruised the Mediterranean. He took his wife and collecting partner Emily to England eleven times between 1903 and 1923. In the first year, 1903, he purchased as many as EIGHT First Folios: Folger number 1, 17, 33, 45, 47, 48, 56, and 64 out of the eighty-two copies he purchased over a lifetime. In the last year, 1923, he stepped down as president of Standard Oil Company of New York to become the oil giant’s chairman of the board. That year, he acquired only one First Folio, number 53.

The Folgers traveled from New York to London and back on the steamship Minnehaha of the American-owned Atlantic Transport Line, piloted by Captain John Robinson of Watford, Hertfordshire. The Folgers enjoyed Shakespeare plays in London and Stratford-upon-Avon, paid homage to the Bard’s birthplace, and consummated major book collecting deals. On their first trip, Folger brought back what he termed the “most precious book in the world,” the Vincent First Folio to which he bestowed the honored number 1. On their second trip, he wrote up the story of its purchase and––after several rejection letters––got it published in Outlook magazine in November 1908, one of his rare publications about their book-buying adventures.

The Folgers each obtained tickets to spend to spend two days in the British Museum Reading Room in 1903. Henry asked to see John Florio’s translation of Montaigne’s Essays and studied Shakespeare’s signature therein. Folger was often offered for sale “genuine” Shakespeare signatures on documents that were fakes.

Folgers’ admission tickets to British Museum for two days, 1903

In Stratford, the Folgers stayed in room 10 at the Golden Lion Hotel, J. Fry, Proprietor. Ye Peacock Inn in Shakespeare’s time, the site was a Marks & Spencer department store when I visited in 2008. Stratford-upon-Avon remembered Henry Clay Folger––with a photo and caption––in an exhibition at the Nash House, the home of Shakespeare’s granddaughter. The Folgers met up at the Berkeley Hotel in London with John Anderson of Anderson Galleries, a NYC auction house. Emily jotted down notes in a diary of her British stays.

The Folgers stayed at the Golden Lion Hotel in Stratford-upon-Avon

On August 25, 1905, the Folgers signed the Guest Book at the Holy Trinity Church on the same day as several visitors from nearby Cheltenham, one from Glasgow, and a fellow New Yorker. That year, they brought home to New York the eight-page Stratford-upon-Avon Herald, the Parish Magazine, and the street plan and guide of Stratford to add to their growing Shakespeare collection. In 1905, they paid sixpence apiece for tickets nos. 317 and 318 to view the New Place Museum, foundations, and garden.

Henry and Emily Folger signatures in Guest Book at Holy Trinity Church, 1905

One hundred ten years later, in 2015, the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust announced a “new chapter” in Shakespeare’s final home, New Place in Stratford-upon-Avon, where they will transform the site into an imaginative heritage attraction. It is the kind of project in which the organizers would definitely have sought Folger’s financial support. To such solicitations Folger responded in one of two ways: sometimes with a check, but more often with profuse apologies, explaining that he was putting all his disposable funds into his Shakespeare collection.

(This post originally appeared on Blogging Shakespeare by Shakespeare Birthplace Trust on June 02, 2015.)

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Capt. Peter Strickland 1837–1921
Philatelic Covers of the 1st U.S. Consul to Senegal
To Mark the Centennial

by Stephen H. Grant | Jan 21, 2021 | Books, Collecting, Consul, Consulate, Culture, Gorée, Peter Strickland, Philately, Senegal

“Thank you, Stephen, for bringing this local shipmaster’s story to life
and for showing others how hard work in the archives can result in meaningful stories to tell.”

Paul O’Pecko, Mystic Seaport Museum, Connecticut

“Thank you for your dedicated research across continents and dispersed archives. Your 5-minute video is a delightful supplement to this blog, taking us along your journey as a biographer, deltiologist, diplomat, historian, and researcher. I love referring people to your Strickland biography to learn more about 19th c. transatlantic history. P.S. The Kora music is beautiful!”

Rebecca Johnson Melvin, University of Delaware Library

Dedication: This blog post is dedicated to Shaun Mullen (1947—2020) who as reading room supervisor at the University of Delaware Morris Library’s Special Collections shared with me the elation and excitement of archival discovery. He was the first person I knew who had a blog, “Kiko’s House.” In December 2005 when I was living on Gorée Island, I submitted to Shaun texts and images for his blog. In 2011 I wrote Special Collections, “I probably won’t go for a blog as Shaun does.” A decade later now it’s time to eat my hat. As I turn 80 this week, I have also become an addicted blogger.

For a quarter of a century––from 1880 to 1905––shipmaster Peter Strickland lived on Gorée Island in Senegal while toiling in the merchant marine. He brought leaf tobacco from Kentucky and Tennessee to West Africa and, on return trips, filled the cargo bay of schooners with goat hides, peanuts, and palm kernels. In addition, he represented the United States as Consul, after his appointment by President Chester Arthur in 1883. Strickland was born in 1837 in Montville, Connecticut, and left school at age 15 for a seafaring life. In ten years he had risen from cabin boy to captain. He married Mary Louise Rogers who bore him four children: Peter, Grace, George, and Mary. Peter died of bronchitis at 10 mos. The family moved from New London to Dorchester, Massachusetts to be near the busy port of Boston. After trying to get used to living in West Africa, Mary Louise must have told her husband, “See you in Dorchester.” The older daughter stayed with the mother, the other two accompanied their father to Senegal. The couple lived apart for 25 years. From several statements in Strickland’s journal one concludes that the couple had a flawed marriage.

Fig.1. Captain Strickland’s Routes to West Africa Shelly McCoy,
University of Delaware Library, ESRI Data & Maps, 2005

Fig.2. Captain Strickland’s West Africa Shelly McCoy,
University of Delaware Library, ESRI Data & Maps, 2005

Incoming and outgoing mail was one of the most significant activities for Peter Strickland as he carried out his commercial and consular duties. He commended young Senegalese mechanics for their resourcefulness in making him a postal scale. “Got the blacksmith to mend my little letter balance which got broken by a fall nearly a year ago and he did it so neatly and effectually that the balance is quite as good and looks almost as well as ever. Some of the young mechanics in this country learn their trades very well.” At New Years, Strickland mailed cards to his friends and acquaintances. In 1905, his last year on the island, he sent 150 cards, which saved him “a great deal of time and trouble.” Strickland read and wrote his mail in a “writing cage,” probably as protection from mosquitoes. We have no drawings of it, but its construction in painted wood were assignments he gave to Carlo da Silva, a Cape Verdean he hired to be live-in carpenter, handyman, and storekeeper. Strickland’s Congregational upbringing in Connecticut taught him that writing or reading business correspondence on the weekend would not please the Lord, a practice he faithfully followed. In the same vein, he frowned upon loading or unloading ship cargo on the Sabbath.

Peter Strickland kept a daily journal for 64 years! First entry, Jan. 1, 1857 at age 19, as he left Boston on a sailing vessel to bring coal and iron to Mexico. His last entry just a century ago in 1921 ended in mid-sentence. To give a flavor, I will share a few diary entries.

5/17/64 Cargo casks of tobacco unloaded in Goree, lumber in Dakar

3/9/66 (from Rufisque) Got off 21 boatloads of peanuts today (nearly 2500 bushels)

4/28/94 Made a trip to Rufisque and met with moderate success in selling and collecting. Returned in the cutter Jeanne, arriving about 4:15 pm after a passage of an hour

5/30/94 Went to Rufisque by train and returned in a lighter, after having sold there more than $300 in goods

1/20/95 Small pox raging badly in Goree and Rufisque

1/21/95 Went to the hospital and got vaccinated

10/6/95 Report of dangerous typhoid fever in Dakar and Rufisque

7/22/08 Wrote and mailed a letter to Maurel Freres of Rufisque

3/21/13 Mailed two small photos which Sika took of me in the act of shoveling snow from the verandah when the branches of the trees were covered with snow to Mr. Escarpit, Mayor of Rufisque, and agent of Maurel Freres in Senegal.

Fig. 3. Cover sent from Rufisque, Sénégal to Monsieur y Madame Strickland, Gorée, 1/1/85

Rufisque is located 13 mi. east of Dakar along the peninsula, opposite Gorée Island. This small cover posted on New Year’s Day in 1885 presents an enigma; Madame Strickland never lived in Gorée. From 1877 to 1880, she did accompany Monsieur to West Africa when he lived in the Portuguese colony of Bissau (now Guinea Bissau), where she was often ill. Daughter Mademoiselle Mary (called Sika) Strickland did live in Gorée during most of Peter’s time there. The correspondent could have been Hispanic, as the “y” was used rather than the French “et.”

Fig. 4. Cover sent from Brand & Bethel Tobacco Co., Louisville, Kentucky, to Peter Strickland, Gorée, 12/6/88

On 3/14/90, Strickland wrote letter no. 77 to Brand & Bethel Leaf Tobacco Company in Louisville, Kentucky with this information: Senegambia is thought to contain nine millions of inhabitants, the coast about 500 miles in extent is in the hands of Europeans. Up to 1865 little tobacco was used in this country but now the yearly consumption is nearly 5000/2 hhds. Traders penetrate farther into the interior continually and new avenues for its consumption are being opened up.

For maritime shipment, tobacco was packed tightly in wooden barrels, 48 in. long and 30. In in diameter, that could weigh 1,000 lbs. The unit of measure is a tobacco hogshead (hhd). “Senegambia” refers to the French colony of Senegal and the small (fewer than 4,400 sq. mi.) The British colony of The Gambia has a coastline and separates Senegal in two. I posit that Peter Strickland bears an important role in habituating both French and indigenous populations in West Africa to feel a need for the weed.

Fig. 5. Mourning cover from Rufisque to P. Strickland y familli, Gorée, 12/31/88

Fig.6. Mourning cover (back) arrived in Gorée, 12/31/88

This mourning cover was written in the same handwriting as in Fig. 3. It is the same five-centime green stamp for use in French colonies. One can assume that the sending post office was also in Rufisque. Most of the letters of the sending town are hidden by the wide black mourning band around the envelope. I can distinguish an “R” as the first letter of the sending P.O. Unfortunately, return addresses were rarely included on personal correspondence in this period. Fortunately, most commercial establishments printed their addresses on the front side of envelopes. Mourning envelopes were more expensive than a normal envelope; especially one identified as the work of a well-known printer and engraver like N. Weill of 42 Blvd Bonne Nouvelle, Paris.

For the biographer of Peter Strickland, it is no secret whose death is being mourned in Figs. 5–6. Here is my photograph of the gravestone:

Fig. 7. George Strickland gravestone, Cedar Grove Cemetery,
New London, Conn. Photo by Stephen Grant

GEORGE STRICKLAND BORN APRIL 17, 1864 NEW LONDON. HE WAS VICE CONSUL OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA FOR FRENCH WEST AFRICA AT THE TIME OF HIS DEATH WHICH OCCURRED ACCIDENTALLY BY DROWNING WITHIN THE DISTRICT OF THE CONSULATE FEBRUARY 7, 1888

Son George Strickland died in mysterious circumstances. Here is how the pained father reported the event in his Consular Dispatch No. 83 to the State Department on 2/20/ 88:

I have the extreme unhappiness to inform you of the death

by drowning on the evening of the 7th instant of my only

Son, Mr. George Strickland, the Vice-Consul. He embarked

for Saint-Louis taking passage in the Schooner M. E.

Higgins, on the morning of the 6th instant, and when the

vessel was about fifteen miles NW of Cape de Verde Light

he accidentally fell from one of the rails where he was sitting

without apprehension of danger into the sea. A boat was

launched instantly and every effort made to save him but

he sank finally before he could be picked up. It was about

eight o’clock in the evening when the accident occurred.

The vessel was kept as near as possible to the spot all of that

night and the most of the next day when, finding no trace of

anything she returned to Goree with the sad news.

Fig. 8. Cover sent from Boston to Peter Strickland in Gorée, 8/2/89

Fig. 9. Cover (back) arrived in Gorée, 8/2/ 89

It is interesting to follow the five postmarks on the above piece of mail sent 8/2/89 from my birth city, Boston, to Gorée, with intermediate stops at Paris 8/11, Bordeaux 8/12, and Marseilles 8/13, before reaching its destination on 8/22. That’s three weeks; sometimes mail takes as long today.

Fig. 10. Cover sent from Gorée to Peter Strickland in Gorée, 12/31/88

Felix Crus must have worked at the Chamber of Commerce in Gorée. On 4/15/00, Peter Strickland wrote a letter in French to a M. Crus. “E/J” stands for enveloppe jointe, a note for the postal clerks to treat the official mail with care. The envelope mailed on the last day of Peter’s annus horribilis might well have conveyed a Happy New Year message. The president of the Gorée Chamber of Commerce was Claude Potin. A letter posted from the Chamber of Commerce to the American consul on Gorée sounds normal and appropriate, doesn’t it? What most readers don’t know is that Strickland and Potin lived across the street from each other, on the rue de Hesse on Gorée. The building Strickland lived in and used for his consulate (see Fig. 29) has been called “la maison Strickland.” Across the street lived Claude Potin, president of the Gorée chamber of commerce in a house now referred to as “la maison dite de l’Aga Khan.

Admire the calligraphy on this cover, and on others.

Fig.11. Cover sent from Dakar to Monsieur Peter Strickland, Gorée, 1/3/90

Fig. 11. is the second cover from the Kentucky-based tobacco company, Brand & Bethel. Note that the firm has slightly modified its pre-printed envelope, continuing to print “via,” but eliminating “per.” The reason the “via” prompt was included was that American postal clerks had only an approximate knowledge of West African geography, and often sent mail far afield. “W.C.” stands for West Coast.

Fig. 12. Cover sent from Brand & Bethel Leaf Tobacco, Louisville, Kentucky to Capt. Peter Strickland, Gorée, Senegambia W.C. Africa, 3/6/90

Fig. 13. Cover sent to Monsieur P. Strickland, négociant, Gorée, 12/30/93

Fig. 12. is all business; no consular title is used. We’ve seen postage stamps affixed in the upper right, upper left, now lower left. The Universal Postal Union is responsible for establishing such norms. Founded in 1874, UPU’s precepts had not reached all corners of the earth.

Fig. 14. Cover sent from St. Louis, Senegal to Mademoiselle M. Strickland, Consulat Américain, Gorée, Sénégal, 5/1/97

Fig. 15. Cover (back) arrived in Gorée, 5/2/97

Saint-Louis was the capital of the French colony Senegal from 1673 to 1902, when Dakar became the capital.

Fig. 16. Cover sent from Paris to Mademoiselle Strickland, 1/20/99 Consulat des Etats-Unis, Gorée, Sénégal. 1/20/99

Fig. 17. Cover (back) arrived in Gorée via Bordeaux, 2/4/99

The cover in Figs. 15–16 made an intermediate stop in Bordeaux on 1/21/99. I assume Mathilde Rossel was Mary’s friend who wrote a letter to her and also that Mathilde’s name is written in Mary’s handwriting. Mary Strickland was born in 1868. She would have accompanied her father to live on Gorée at the age of 12 until the age of 37. In 1945, she died at the age of 77 in her father’s hone in Dorchester, Mass. Her sister Grace had died there in 1906 at the age of 31. Neither daughter married. The line died out.

Fig. 18. Cover sent from E. Maurin and Co. in Dakar to Mlle Strickland, Gorée, 8/24/99

Fig. 19. Cover (back) arrived in Gorée, 8/24/99

Ernest Maurin bought tobacco from Peter Strickland, who noted in his diary that Maurin died on 1/14/00. Ernest might have had a daughter who is corresponding here with Mary Strickland. On 2/14/00 Peter wrote a letter in French to Ernest Maurin. The Grand Hotel later took the name, Hôtel de l’Europe.

Fig. 20. Cover sent from Boyer, Dakar to M et Mademoiselle P. Strickland, Gorée, ?/ ?/01

The contents of this envelope must have come from Xavier Boyer. Born in 1857 of a French father and Senegalese mother, Xavier Boyer died in 1918 in Marseilles. A businessman living in Dakar, Boyer had family and property on Gorée. He owned one of the two adjacent houses on the northern shore of Gorée overlooking the port that he rented to Strickland from 1880 to 1905. Strickland paid his rent most of the time in cash, but on 4/15/97 paid him in tobacco worth 918 francs.

Fig. 21. Mourning cover sent from Dakar to Miss Strickland, Consulat des Etats-Unis Gorée, 6/25/02

Fig. 22. Mourning cover (back) arrived in Gorée, 6/25/02

I am at a loss to figure out what death was mourned by Mary Strickland 14 years after that of her brother George. It was not someone in the family.

Fig. 23. Cover sent from Rufisque to Monsieur Strickland, Gorée, 1/?/02

The contents of this letter came from a man named Vidor. On 2/20/03, Strickland wrote Monsieur Vidor, an employee at the Compagnie Francaise de l’Afrique Occidentale in Rufisque. The subject was a property Strickland owned in Dakar that he wanted to sell for 30,000 francs. Strickland explained, “I bought the place intending to transfer my business there, but the loss of my son changed all my plans.” The deal went through, but not with Vidor.

Fig. 24. Cover sent from Gorée to Mademoiselle et Monsieur Strickland, Gorée, 12/31/02

The message inside Fig. 23 was from Alexander Desproges. Alexandre and his wife Amélie lived on the rue de Dakar in Gorée. Born in Fort-de-France, Martinique, Desproges served as Gorée postmaster. More than a decade after Strickland retired from the consular service, and returned to his home in Dorchester, Mass., he was still corresponding with Desproges to keep abreast of Gorée news.

Fig. 25. Cover sent from Rufisque to Mademoiselle Strickland, Gorée, ?/2/05

Not always easy to read dates and names of towns on postmarks of the time. The sender had fun putting stamps on two opposite corners of the envelope, one upside down and the other sideways. Linxweiler is a German name. In August 1903, Strickland was sending cables to a Mr. Linxweiler in Germany about his buying tobacco. It’s been a substantial value added to have 8 names written on the covers, designating the names of correspondents who wrote the elusive contents in this fascinating thread of philatelic covers.

Fig. 26. Cover sent from Luckett Wake Co. in Clarksville, Tennessee to Peter Strickland, Gorée, 4/4/05

Fig. 27. Cover (back) arrived in Gorée, 5/6/05

This is the only cover to Strickland that I’ve seen that was typed on a machine. In 1904, the State department sent Consul Strickland a typewriter. He typed one dispatch with it, and concluded that was enough. Luckett Wake Tobacco Co. was founded in 1854 in Louisville, Kentucky. On Mar. 1, 1904, Strickland wrote the Luckett-Wake Tobacco Company to announce that “the French are trying to raise tobacco and cotton in Senegal.” He reported no more on the subject.

After 23 years of consular service in Gorée, Consul Strickland tendered his resignation to the State Department. Having decided to return to Dorchester, Mass. and to Mrs. Strickland, he also had to find someone to take over his duties as commission merchant for the American tobacco company, Luckett-Wake of Clarksville, Tenn. He chose Maurel Frères of Senegal. Strickland wrote Luckett-Wake on 12/20/04 to introduce the firm. “Maurel Frères may be as good a party as we are likely to find to carry on the business . . . Maurel Frères is a rich, thoroughly reliable, and competent firm, located on the spot. . . Maurel Frères is and has been the most popular of the larger firms. . . Maurel Frères have large factories at Dakar, Rufisque, at all the points along the line of the railroad into the interior, in the Rivers Casamance & Gambia.”

One of Strickland’s last visitors on Gorée was the census taker, who counted him among the island’s population of 1,560 inhabitants. Of this total, 1,312 were indigenous, 156 were mixed race, and 92 were of European stock.

On July 21, 1905, Capt. Strickland and his daughter Mary stepped on the French steamer La Cordillère in Dakar, bound for Bordeaux. They took the train for Paris and crossed the Channel on Sept. 22. In Liverpool they boarded the White Star Line’s RMS Republic for Boston. The captain could not help comparing how he first arrived in Senegal and how he departed. He had arrived 40 years earlier on the schooner Indian Queen, a 78-feet-long, 118-ton vessel. In contrast, the RMS Republic weighed 15,385 tons and was 570 feet long.

Fig. 28. Cover sent 1/24/16 from Rufisque to Peter Strickland in Dorchester, Mass.

This is the only cover I’ve come across sent to Peter Strickland in the US. It is notable that this first-ever presentation of mail to Peter and Mary Strickland in Senegal and in the US spanning 3 decades starts and ends with mail from Rufisque. We’ve known quite a lot about Peter Strickland’s life through the documents he left behind; we know little about his wife and daughters. The mail to Mary in this post constitutes an unexpected value added, opening a window on her communications.

From 1905 until 1912, Strickland maintained a role in facilitating tobacco sales in Senegal through Luckett-Wake, cutting his sales commission from 5% to 1½%. On Jan. 10, 1913 he reflected on his last 6 decades.

It seems to me decidedly queer not to be connected in any manner with business. Since I was in my “teens,” I have had work almost continually so that it has seemed to be a part of my nature to be connected with it, and I have now got no particular work or business to think of. But I am 75 years of age, and have perhaps done my share of the “World’s Work,” although I have a feeling and am glad that I have got it that I should be willing to do more if I am given strength and opportunity as perhaps I shall be. . . One hardly likes to feel that he has no longer anything to do in the world except to exist and to give all his attention to those wants of his nature connected with existence. One still longs to do something which shall count for the world, and I think most of those who have generous natures manage to make themselves useful in some manner clear through to the end.

Fig. 29. Consulate and Strickland residence on Gorée Island, Senegal, 1880–1905. Strickland sent this postcard with his drawings and commentary to the State Department in Washington, D.C.

Fig. 30. Strickland residence at 102 Neponset Ave., Dorchester, Mass., 1871–1945

References, quotations from:

Peter Strickland Manuscript Collection 69, Mystic Seaport Library, Mystic, Conn.

MSS 171 Peter Strickland Papers, 1857-1912, University of Delaware Morris Library Special Collections, Newark, Del.

ORDER THIS BOOK

PETER STRICKLAND:

New London Shipmaster, Boston Merchant, First Consul to Senegal

Peter Strickland might have slipped through history’s net were it not for the author’s purchase of an item on eBay. An envelope bearing a blue five-cent postage stamp of President James Garfield completed its journey from Boston via Paris, Bordeaux, and Marseilles and was delivered in 1889 to “Capt. Peter Strickland, U. S. Consul, Goree, West Africa.”

Grant’s biography of Strickland adds to our knowledge about what consuls did and how they did it. Strickland claimed he knew more about West African trade than any other American at that time. He made over 40 voyages during the Age of Sail from New England to West Africa, carrying in the holds of his schooners, brigs, and brigantines cargo of leaf tobacco from Kentucky and Tennessee, blocks of ice wrapped up in sawdust from the Kennebec River for refrigeration. READ MORE

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From Bangs to Maggs: Folger Fourth Folios

by Stephen H. Grant | Jan 12, 2021 | Amherst, Collecting, England, Folger, Shakespeare

Imperfect title-page of Shakespeare Fourth Folio (1685) acquired by Folger Library in 2014

In 1889, 10 years after he graduated from Amherst College and 84 years before I did, Henry Folger walked “with fear and trepidation” into the foremost book auction house in America, Bangs and Co. on 91 Fifth Avenue. A large, thick volume caught his eye and changed his life forever. For the first time, he picked up, and fondled, a genuine Shakespeare Folio containing the Bard’s Comedies, Tragedies, and Histories. It was not the most well known First Folio (1623) respected for its authenticity and of which he had acquired a facsimile copy to present to his wife Emily Jordan Folger a few years before, but the amplified Fourth Folio (1685). He pondered how much he should bid on the volume which he decided––on the spot––he must possess. Henry bid $107.50. The Folio––printed in London two centuries earlier––was knocked down to the nervous 32-year-old. Strapped for cash, he was relieved to hear that he could pay in four installments over a 30-day period. Folger had bought his first rare book; he was hooked.

For the next forty years, Brooklyn resident Henry Folger plowed all his Standard Oil Co. investment returns into assembling the largest Shakespeare repository on the planet, including 200 Folios: 82 First Folios (1623), 58 Second Folios (1632), 24 Third Folios (1663–64), and 37 Fourth Folios (1685). Why did he collect SO MANY copies? They were ALL different in some respect: size, condition, binding, provenance, typesetting variations by several compositors, spelling variants, faulty pagination, number of genuine leaves, missing pages, marginalia. Folger’s aim was not only to collect, but to build a research library where scholars could study and analyze the fruits of his collecting mania.

Realizing he could not afford the time to attend auctions himself, Folger developed close alliances with booksellers who represented him as his commission agents. He corresponded with 600 book dealers, of whom Maggs Bros. Ltd. in London received more Folger mail than any other, over 150 letters. He wrote a (handwritten) letter to founder Uriah Maggs as early as Sept. 25, 1893. Maggs sold Folger four Fourth Folios in 1920 and 1923 that he numbered nos. 3, 5, 12, and 24 of his collection. Records show that nos. 5 and 24 cost Folger £31 10s each, minus Folger’s 10% discount for paying with ready cash. Folger sent his last (typed) letter to the firm on Shakespeare’s birthday, 1930.

April 23, 1930 turned out to be the last Shakespeare’s birthday that Henry Folger lived. He had obtained 37 copies of the Fourth Folio. Besides Emily, nobody knew he had so many. He almost bought no. 38. Maggs sent Folger a detailed typed report on March 4, 1930, tempting the collector by something he loved: an old Shakespeare item with lots of annotations in the margins. Folger was way ahead of his time in his scholarly appreciation of marginalia.

1685 volume opened to “To Be” speech in Hamlet, showing a reader’s changes/corrections to the text

Below are some marginalia from Hamlet that Folger excitedly read about in the Maggs report. On the left, I’ve indicated the page and column numbers in a Fourth Folio from which the quote is drawn. At the appropriate place in the original phrase I have put in parentheses the word a reader wrote in the margin as being better or “correct.” In this copy Folger declined in 1930, many other plays also included marginalia. These examples all come from the play most commented upon, Hamlet.

P 61 col 2. Let not thy Brother (Mother)

P 64 col 1. Or to the dreadful Sonnet (Summit) of the Cliff

P 64 col 1. And makes each Petty attire (artery) in his body

P 75 col 2. Forgive me my foul Mother (Murther)

P 75 col 2. I his foul (sole) Son

P 76 col 1. Here is your Husband like a Mildew’d Deer (Ear)

P 76 col 1. Blasting his wholesome breath (brother)

P 84 col 1. They are not near my conscience; their debate (defeat).

While the content of the potential copy no. 38 must have whetted Folger’s appetite, the price did not: £475. Maggs asked, “would you like us to send it over for your examination?” Folger responded curtly on March 17, “I will not wish this copy at the price asked for it.” Was he tired of haggling? Did he sense he had enough copies? Three months later he was dead.

To everyone’s surprise, in 2014, the Folger Library purchased––from Maggs––a Fourth Folio. Becoming the Library’s Fo. 4, no. 38, it was the FIRST Shakespeare Folio the Library had ever purchased. This 2015 blog post by Caroline Duroselle-Melish of the Folger Shakespeare Library shares the particulars of the copy: How an 18th-century clergyman read his Folio.

Recently I entered the Folger reading room and filled out a call slip for the new Fourth Folio. I awaited the special curatorial permission to view the significant acquisition. My purpose was to compare the “corrections” in the 2014 Folger Library purchase with the “corrections” in the 1930 Maggs sale. Although slim chance, I had to satisfy myself that they were not one and the same volume. I could not physically compare the 2014 purchase with the 1930 offer because Folger did not acquire the latter and I did not know who did (Maggs would know). Although I could not compare handwriting in the two copies, I could detect whether corrections were the same or different.

All eight above-listed corrections were the same in the two volumes. My face flushed with excitement! Then, spoiling my fun, they began to differ. In other plays than Hamlet they mainly differed. No dice, it was not the same copy. But how interesting, the many identical entries.

Folger Library’s recently acquired Fourth Folio slightly bigger than the laptop I keep at the Folger

(This post originally appeared on Blogging Shakespeare by Shakespeare Birthplace Trust on October 7, 2015.)

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Picture Postcards of France II

by Stephen H. Grant | Jan 4, 2021 | Amherst, Arts, Collecting, Culture, Deltiology, French, Postcards

READ “Picture Postcards of France I”

I ended Picture Postcards of France I by promising the next deltiological stop in France would be Brittany. I lied. La Bretagne will have to wait. Because January 2021 will be one of the most devastating and trying months in our nation’s history, I thought some humor might help a wee bit.

Postcard collectors or deltiologists usually collect cards related to either places or themes. A place would be Strasbourg in Alsace or Bas-Rhin, France. Examples of themes are railroad stations, flowers, saucy, and humor.

My collection contains only six humoristic cards from France, so this post will feature quality over quantity. I purchased none of the cards. They were sent to me from two people in France. Five came from the late history professor Maurice Valigny; one from my son, transportation engineer Yonel Grant. Here are the handwritten dates:

Valigny: 12/2/88; 3/24/89; 4/18/89; 8/17/89. Grant: 7/22/89.

It’s interesting that all the cards came during only an eight-month period. And what was going on in France during this period? Bien sûr, the Bicentennial! You will note that one of the three stamps on Yonel’s card featured BICENTENAIRE DE LA REVOLUTION FRANÇAISE.

Someone might ask why there are six cards and only five dates. Maurice needed two cards to contain all the information he wanted to convey on 3/24/89. Valigny’s cards were all stuffed into envelopes; no stamp, no postmark. Yonel’s card was posted from Paris to Arlington, Va.

Before getting to the cards, I’ll introduce you to the senders.

Fig. 1. Our first-born discovering my first postcard book, Images de Guinée, 1991

I never could have predicted that I would produce five books in three countries in three continents. Having worked 42 years in the book publishing industry, my father would have been surprised, too. But he never saw them; he died in 1978. In this picture where I am visiting my son in Menlo Park, CA in 1991, we are going page by page through the first book published by the private sector in the West African country of Guinea (formerly Guinée française). All previous books published in the country were printed by the Imprimerie Nationale – “Patrice Lumumba.” The book was a joint effort with two Frenchmen, a Guinean, and myself, financed by the German government, and published by “EDITIONS MISSION CATHOLIQUE CONAKRY.”

Fig. 2. Our house guest, Maurice Valigny from St. Germain-en-Laye, in Abidjan, Ivory Coast

Maurice Valigny always carried in his back pocket a leather wallet that contained a much-handled slip of paper reading, “Valigny est un homme de valeur, (signed) Ch de Gaulle” from his soldiering exploits days during WWII that caught the General’s eye. Introduced by Stephen “Pat” Belcher, director, I met Valigny at the American Cultural Center, 3 rue Dragon in the 6th arrondissement in 1964. Maurice ran the Pavillon Africain at the Cité Universitaire in Paris that housed African students. He stayed with us a few days in Abidjan in the early 1980s, where he visited with his numerous Ivorian friends. We played French Scrabble, where he astonished us one day by transforming “lama” into “blama.”

Fig. 3. “La prise de la Bastille” en bleu, blanc, rouge

Postcard #1 is dramatic: white lettering (La prise de la Bastille); the central object (a cord) is a patriotic blue, white, and red; the background pitch black. Le Petit Robert dictionary dates this use of “prise” or capture of the Bastille fortress as coming from the 13th century. The humor in this card relates to the word “prise” which was given to signify the simple wall-plug in the 20th century. A good example of “double entendre.”

Fig. 4. Message and address side, Paris to Arlington, 1989

Bi-centenaire Photo Yannick Bouvier
GROS CALINS © Editions & Impressions Combier – Mâcon

Fig. 5. LA PRISE DE LA BASTILLE, the fortress stormed on July 14, 1789

Postcard #2 used exactly the same caption as Postcard #1, but added a visual link to the medieval fortress. The humor comes from the anachronism of an electrical cord hanging from a fortress arrow loop or loop-hole (meurtrière).

The reverse side of Postcard #2 exhibits these copyright credits:
Desclozeaux / Bicentenaire de la Révolution Française / NOUVELLES IMAGES S.A. éditeurs / 45700 Lombreuil – France © Desclozeaux 1989 / offset printed in France CP 1116.

Fig. 6. BASTILLE (as a metro stop in Paris)

Postcard #3 presents a comic character from 1789 brandishing sword and spear as he emerges from the Bastille metro station! Another anachronism. The Bastille metro station was one of the first to open on July 19, 1900, as part of the 1900 Paris Exposition. Hector Guimard designed its ornamental Art Nouveau curves.

The reverse side of Postcard #3 exhibits these copyright credits:
Ronald Searle / Bicentenaire de la Révolution Française / NOUVELLES IMAGES S.A. éditeurs / 45700 Lombreuil – France © Ronald Searle 1989 / offset printed in France CP 1081.

This is the only humorous card Valigny sent me where I will share the message. His first sentence on the reverse of the Bastille metro card refers to my postcard collecting, a habit he refers to as “my vice.” Guilty as charged. The subject of the communication was to convey directions about taking the train from Paris to his provincial home in Berry in central France. “Je suis Berrichon,” he often exclaimed to me. He cited the Très Riches Heures du duc de Berry, famous manuscript illumination from the early 15th century. In May 1989 he planned to go hunting for rabbit in his province. His job after the kill was to clean the prey, where he could be sure all the buckshot was removed. His wife was renowned for her civet de lapin.

Fig. 7. BASTILLE Maurice Valigny’s message about visiting le Berry

Postcard #4 is more grave for a comic card because a symbol of the French Revolution––the guiillotine––is hugely present. An aged male member of the ancien régime, closely trailed by the chaplain, has somehow managed to climb a railingless ladder in high heels to meet his Maker. Not, however without barking a final order to his financial advisor in the crowd to urgently sell his diamonds.

The reverse side of Postcard #4 exhibits these copyright credits:
Cabu / Bicentenaire de la Révolution Française / NOUVELLES IMAGES S.A. éditeurs / 45700 Lombreuil – France © Cabu 1989 / offset printed in France CP 1104.

Fig. 8. VENDS DIAMANTS URGENT!

Postcard #5 shows a second drawing by the cartoonist Cabu, who also drew #4; you will immediately see the similarity. The tightly bound bewigged aristocrat on his last wagon ride puffs out his chest, as he withstands vehement shouts from the crowd below and contemplates the last words he hears: “Take heart, polling numbers are on the rise.”

Fig. 9. COURAGE . . . LES SONDAGES REMONTENT . . .

The reverse side of Postcard #5 exhibits these copyright credits:
Cabu / Bicentenaire de la Révolution Française / NOUVELLES IMAGES S.A. éditeurs / 45700 Lombreuil – France © Cabu 1989 / offset printed in France CP 1101.

Fig. 10. LE JOUR DE BOIRE EST ARRIVE

After the famous first line of the French national anthem ALLONS ENFANTS DE LA PATRIE comes the less well known second line, “LE JOUR DE GLOIRE EST ARRIVE.” The simple rhyme substitution of BOIRE for GLOIRE by Monsieur Loup makes us crack a smile. Six bottles of rouge, six red noses, and one lifted glass complete the scene.

The reverse side of Postcard #6 exhibits these copyright credits:
Loup / Bicentenaire de la Révolution Française / NOUVELLES IMAGES S.A. éditeurs / 45700 Lombreuil – France © Loup 1989 / offset printed in France CP 1127.

Did you notice the serial numbers on five cards? Let’s look at the range: 1081, 1101, 1104, 1116, 1127. There is a difference of 46 between the lowest and highest serial number. One could speculate that a contract was let to produce 50 postcards in a series, and sub-contracts were made with cartoonists to produce a specific number of cards. Here we have five cards and four cartoonists. Maurice Valigny most likely purchased these Bicentennial postcards at the same place.

Who are the cartoonists? The only one alive today is Jean-Pierre Desclozeaux, 82. He studied poster art in Paris. He also produces watercolors and cartoons. He is responsible for a weekly gastronomic drawing for Le Monde. Jean-Jacques Loup studied Fine Arts in Lyon. Besides being a cartoonist, he was an architect and jazz pianist. Many of his drawings ended up as jig puzzles. Jean Cabut (Cabu) studied art in Paris. His drawings appeared in Charlie Hebdo. Ronald Searle was a British illustrator, painter, and cartoonist in a career lasting 70 years. [Info from Comiclopedia.]

Brittany next time, c’est promis!

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Nitty-Gritty of Postcard Collecting, Part III

by Stephen H. Grant | Dec 24, 2020 | Collecting, Deltiology, El Salvador, Postcards

Read PART I | Read PART II

Features of Old Postcards

Size & color

Postcards very rarely carry a date printed on the cards. In this, they are unlike most postage stamps, and are much harder to place in time. Exceptions to this are postcards which mark a natural disaster, such as the great San Francisco Fire of 1905 or the 1910 flood in the city of Paris. Commemorative events, such as a visit by a President, King, or Queen, or by a “Minister of the Colonies” to French Africa, for example, often produce explicitly dated cards.

Outside of the rare cases outlined above, the best way of dating a picture postcard is to examine the postmark. This assumes that the postcard was actually sent through the mail. As this book will amply demonstrate, however, most of the old postcards which have survived were never sent. They were bought, collected, and placed in family albums to record travel experiences.

Obviously, the date when a photograph was taken precedes the date when the photograph was made into a postcard and circulated. This lapse of time varies widely. I have a postcard from the Dutch East Indies which was sent in the 1920s and which includes a photograph known to have been taken around 1880. And two examples of the same card from El Salvador, one sent in 1902 and one in 1922.

It also depends on how many postcards, or series of postcards, were produced for sale in a country. Generally, however, one might assume that a postcard photograph might have been taken 1-10 years before its postmarked date.

In this book, when I assign a date to a postcard, I am referring to the date the postcard was sent, or when clues lead me to believe that it was in circulation. Where I suggest a date (a year preceded by a “c” from the Latin circum), it is in comparison with other postcards of the same series that I possess or know about and the dates when they were sent. Not that the date of the photograph is not important; but this is a book more about postcards than about photographs.

Some postmarked dates have been removed by stamp collectors, who value the stamp more than the card, and soak off the stamp. Other postmarks are illegible due to the poor printing equipment or hasty application of the rubber stamp. Consequently, one must resort to a large number of tricks to help date cards. One trick is to know how to read photo paper marks. Photo paper marks are the design and writing that is printed on the address side of the postcard, and where the postage stamp is to be applied. Of course, if the stamp has been affixed there, one cannot see this design!

Stephen Neis of the “Postcard Ring” website has made available on the Internet a very helpful list of photo paper designs, and from his experience, and that of others, has established a range of dates.

With few clear indications, one is obliged to guess the date of the cards: by scrutinizing the style of cloth worn; recognizing a building which was still standing; or know the year a vehicle was produced. To use automobiles to help date a period when a photograph was taken, one needs either to have a vast knowledge of the manufacturers, models, and years, or have access to that expertise. There are many car encyclopedias published covering all makes, models, and countries. Correspondents are often prone to writing the date when they write their message, and this is very helpful.

Postcard from El Salvador’s External Affairs Office to Paris, 1901

Publication

Some postcards clearly show that a foreign country or company was involved in their production. For instance, the cards marked “Libreria Dominiguez, San Salvador, El Salvador, C.A.” contain in the lower right corner, “Stab. Dalle Nogare E Armetti, Milano.” An Italian company, therefore, played some role, most likely that of printer of postcards to be distributed and sold in El Salvador.

The distributor of the largest number (125 cards) of postcards of El Salvador was Victor Hellebuyck from 1946 until 1955. On the front of these cards is written, “Curteich-Chicago ‘C.T. American Art’ Post Card (Reg. U.S. Pat. Off.),” and on the upper right side corner, where the stamp belongs, is written, “Made in U.S.A” These cards were printed in the United States, and sold in El Salvador. One of the oldest cards in the collection was printed in Dresden, Germany, by the Company, Leutret & Schneidewind. These three examples demonstrate the common practice in El Salvador of using foreign partners in printing and perhaps other aspects of postcard manufacturing, such as design.

Postage stamps, postal history

Since so many people who collect and appreciate postcards have an interest in stamps, I have included the Scott Catalog numbers of the stamps which appear on the postcards reproduced in this book. (The Scott Catalog numbers were created in the United States to give a different number to each postage stamp issued in the world. They catalog stamps, not postcards.)

You will notice that many of the cards have the postage stamp affixed on the picture side. This may strike you as strange. Since, in my collection, most of the postcards which display a stamp on the picture side are old cards, I initially assumed that the reason correspondents put the stamp on that side was that they were following to the letter the warning written on many postcards, “Put the address on this side of the postcard.” That is, they were literally putting only the address, and the other side was dedicated to the picture, the message, and the stamp.

Michael G. Price, a more experienced postcard collector than I, however, has stated that this was a common action of postcard collectors, to put the stamp on an inconspicuous corner of the picture side, thus producing a more attractive postcard for someone’s collection. I have, in my collection, one card with a stamp placed folded half on one side, half on the other, by an original or an undecided correspondent!

There is a close affinity between stamp collecting and postcard collecting. Since postage stamps are often placed on postcards, you can often find postcards for sale at stamp dealers. When I have told people in many countries that I collect postcards, many say, “do you mean stamps?” These people have not yet heard of postcard collecting. The Director of Education for the American Philatelic Society, Ms. Kathleen Wunderly, has put her interest in postcards in this simple, engaging way: “Postcards are a quadruple delight: cancel, stamp, picture, message.” In section III, we will make a short inventory of the different types of messages cards may contain.

Postcard sent to Spencer Arms Hotel in NYC’s Upper West Side in the year of its construction, 1907

Censorship

During the Second World War (particularly in 1943 and 1944), people sending postcards from El Salvador (and other countries) to the United States were likely to have their postcards reviewed by a censor in the U.S. Censors were looking for hidden or coded messages which might contain information relating to national security. Censors were known to remove the stamps in this pursuit, but basically they scrutinized the written message.

Censors had a rubber stamp they put generally on the message part of the card. A rectangular red rubber stamp that read “Passed by examiner no. …,” and a round red or black rubber stamp put by the mark. “U.S. censorship, examined by…” The examiner put his number, in pencil or pen, in the space left for that purpose.

This extract was drawn from the author’s book, Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards. San Salvador, El Salvador: Fundación María Escalón de Núñez, 1999, 328 pp. Bilingual edition. ISBN 99923-20-01-1.

Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer

Early Salvadoran Postcards

Early Salvadoran Postcards is one of the first extensive studies published on the old postcards of a Latin American country. The book was conceptualized, researched, developed, designed, and printed in El Salvador.

The section “Collecting Postcards” is designed to answer the fundamental questions people may have about this hobby or pastime. What is a postcard? Where do you find postcards? How much do postcards cost? What do you do with your postcards? Features of old postcards: size & color, type, era, dating, publication, postage stamps, postal history, and censorship. READ MORE

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Nitty-Gritty of Postcard Collecting, Part II

by Stephen H. Grant | Dec 16, 2020 | Collecting, Deltiology, El Salvador, Postcards

Read PART I

What do you do with your postcards?

First, you have to put them somewhere, and also adopt some system to know what you have and where to find it. Postcard collectors vary in their habits of classifying and storing postcards. Most classify them by subject, but some by postcard producer or distributor, whose names are often included on one side of the card.

The shoe box is still a customary way to store postcards. Specialists use albums, very much like photograph albums. Postcard supply shops market album pages which have different size pocket formats, from older to newer postcards, the latter being somewhat larger than the former. Three-or four-ring album binders are popular.

Perhaps some readers have noticed enlargements of postcards framed and displayed in public places, such as restaurants. Decorators of restaurant interiors are more and more recommending old photographs or postcard enlargements to portray how the area where the restaurant is located looked decades ago. The displays frequently evoke curiosity, but probably more clients than not just walk by them. Displays can include the framing behind glass or polyurethane of original postcards, or the photographic enlargement or scanned reproduction of the card.

Features of Old Postcards

Size & color

Postcards on the market today vary in size from the standard 10 x 15 centimeters to 11 x 16.5 centimeters (El Salvador), 12 x 17 centimeters (Indonesia), and a few “maxi” cards, measuring 18 x 24 centimeters (El Salvador). Old postcards around the world, however, generally measure 9 x 14 centimeters, as this was the standard established by the Universal Postal Union in 1878.

Most of the postcards produced in the end of the 19^th century and the beginning of the 20^th century were black and white. The late teens and 1920s were the period of the sepia colored cards, that is light brown or tan.

Before being reproduced in large numbers, however, many black and white cards were hand painted in color by artists in the employ of the producer or printer. These cards are referred to in this book as “color printed.” Sometimes the photographer or distributor had identified each color to be applied to each part of the black-and-white picture, according to an extensive color palette. The first postcards derived from color photography became available in the early 1930s (but none are represented in this book).

Type

While most picture postcards are produced from photographs, there are also paintings and drawings which were made into postcards.

Since postcards represented a growing means of communication in the late 19^th century, businessmen quickly saw their usefulness for advertising. Some postcards contained advertisements on one side or the other. Tourist hotels were one business that took advantage of the presence of tourists under their roofs to produce and sell their own postcards, hoping their guests would turn their correspondents into future guests! In Egypt, the major hotels in Luxor and Aswan received permission from the postal authorities to create and use their own cancellation machines, to the delight of stamp collectors.

Postcard sent from Acajutla to Barcelona, 1906

Era

An “era” is a term that is applied to the history of postcard production, to differentiate the predominant style of postcards printed at a given period. While these categories are not all mutually exclusive, nor restricted to the time periods indicated, they offer a general frame of reference.

1895-1907 Undivided-back Era. The first picture postcards were not designed to send messages! All of one side was the picture, and all of the other was left for the address! There might be room for a signature or a brief word, but the principle point was to send a picture, and as the picture often represented a geographical spot one was visiting from home, the picture itself was the message. Sometimes the picture postcard sent through the mail appeared to say, “Aren’t I lucky traveling to this exotic place, while you are stuck at home?”

1907-1915 Divided-back Era. In 1907, the Universal Postal Union authorized postcard production which included a “divided back,” where by the right side would be devoted to the address, and the left side to the message, instead of the entire side for the address. The dividing line is referred to as the Center Line. The entire other side was saved for the picture. The is the form of postcard that we know today.

This era is also referred to as the Golden Age. Most postcards were produced in Germany, which led the world in lithographic printing.

Postcard sent from San Salvador to Barcelona, 1928

1915-1930 White Border Era. During the period of the First World War, 1914-1918, materials devoted to printing were scarce, and of poor quality. To save ink, many cards were printed with a white border all around. These cards, like all those produced since, were also of the “divided-back” variety.

Many postcards appeared in color, but it was not true color. Black & white photographs were “touched up” by artists, and then reproduced. One such procedure took place around a table, where women, generally, worked with fine paint brushes. Each woman added a different color, and passed the card around. Sometimes the color artists received careful instructions from the photographer of the black & white scene concerning which color shades to apply.

1930-1945 Linen Era. A high rag content paper was used, which one could feel in the texture of the postcard.

1939-present Chrome Era. Chrome or Polychrome postcards were the first true color postcards, from photographs taken with color film. By 1945, most linen postcards and black & white postcards were replaced by “chromes.”

This extract was drawn from the author’s book, Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards. San Salvador, El Salvador: Fundación María Escalón de Núñez, 1999, 328 pp. Bilingual edition. ISBN 99923-20-01-1.

Read PART III

Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer

Early Salvadoran Postcards

Early Salvadoran Postcards is one of the first extensive studies published on the old postcards of a Latin American country. The book was conceptualized, researched, developed, designed, and printed in El Salvador.

The section “Collecting Postcards” is designed to answer the fundamental questions people may have about this hobby or pastime. What is a postcard? Where do you find postcards? How much do postcards cost? What do you do with your postcards? Features of old postcards: size & color, type, era, dating, publication, postage stamps, postal history, and censorship. READ MORE

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Nitty-Gritty of Postcard Collecting, Part I

by Stephen H. Grant | Dec 9, 2020 | Collecting, Deltiology, El Salvador, Postcards

Collecting in general

Either you are a collector or you are not. It is one way to divide up the world. It is clearly a leisure activity, unless you are in the business. It is a hobby, a pastime, a way to spend odd hours for millions of people around the world who have some time and some money and find satisfaction in collecting.

If you look at magazines for collectors or visit antique stores or flea markets, you can get an idea of the breadth of collected articles: from postage stamps to furniture; paintings to duck decoys; bottle caps to embroideries; autographs to Barbie dolls; firearms to marbles; presidential campaign buttons to ancient farmhouse tools. The list is endless.

While aesthetics—or the search for the beautiful—may be a part of collecting, the collection of many objects is not dedicated to the beautiful. Rather, beauty comes in numbers, in variety. Many collectors strive to obtain as many as they can of their favorite object. They almost always confront a financial limit, as collecting hobbies turn out to be expensive. Trading is still practiced among collectors of like objects—and this feature adds a social character to collecting—and the market value of what one collects is one of the first things collectors learn.

Other questions that collectors face are: how to classify the objects? Store them? Display them? How to have others enjoy them? We will look at these aspects in the world of postcards.

One-centavo postal card sent to Baruch & Co, San Salvador

Postcard Collecting

What is a postcard?

Here are three definitions.

“A commercially printed card with space on one side for an address and a postage stamp, used for sending a short message through the mail.” (American Heritage Dictionary, 3^rd Edition, 1992)

“A 3 by 5-inch piece of thin paperback with a picture on its face.” (Mark Franklin, World Wide Web, Postmark: The Attic 1997)

“Postcards are written or printed communications on Bristol Board that allow actual and personal correspondence.” (Miguel A. Garcia, Correos de El Salvador, 1910)

Each of the three definitions stresses complementary aspects of what a postcard is: its manufacturing agent; its manufacturing process; its size; its use; the brevity of the message contained; the requirement of a postage stamp. One word used above is not a familiar one: “Bristol”. One finds this word as the American Heritage dictionary translation for “cartulina.” The city of Bristol is in southwest England, and was known for the manufacture of “smooth heavy pasteboard of fine quality.”

What is a postal card? Merriam-Webster tells us: “a card sold by the post office with a stamp already printed on it.”

Actually, every postcard is manufactured using three sheets of thin paper pasted together: the picture side, the address side, and a plain sheet in-between.

Among collecting hobbies, you find postcards in a category of objects called “ephemera,” which is defined as “short-lived or transitory.” Paper products are somewhat fragile, and are bound to disappear. After postage stamps, picture postcards are the most often collected type of ephemera. In “paper shows” in the United States, for instance, where postcards are sold, you also find books, posters, baseball cards, sheet music, autographs, stereoscopic photographs, comic books, and magazines.

You often find stamps affixed to postcards. You also often come across postcards from which cancelled stamps have been removed, to the satisfaction of a single-minded philatelist (collector of stamps), and to the annoyance and chagrin of the deltiologist (postcard collector).

An important differentiating feature is that in stamp collecting you can know exactly what you have, because few countries (England, France, Italy, Spain, Germany, and the United States.) have produced postage stamp catalogues, listing every official stamp released by each country. No such aid exists for the postcard collector. You never know exactly what you do not have.

When people collect postcards, generally they collect cards with pictures that illustrate some theme or some geographic entity. For instance, common postcard themes collected are the following: trains and railroad stations; Santa Claus and Valentines; movie actors and actresses; American black life; Judaica; tennis; tobacco; etc. Some may seem a little far fetched, such as postcard specialists of circus freaks or outhouses!

Geographical subjects may be limited to a country; a district; a village. More and more people are collecting postcards of the areas where they grew up or where their parents came from. The search for one’s roots is one that can be facilitated and enriched through the collection and study of picture postcards.

Postcard sent by Cohen & Dreyfus to Paris, 1909

Where do you find postcards?

There are two main ways of finding old postcards. You go out and look for them, or you read the trade journals or consult the internet and shop from home. Outside the home, you find old postcards in flea markets; antique stores malls, markets, and shows; used book stores; and at postage stamp dealers.

For dozens of years there have been specialized trade journals for collectors, and specifically for postcard collectors. The publications offer addresses of postcard dealers who will send postcards to you on approval. “On approval” means that you request and receive in the mail either the postcards to be sold, or photocopies of the postcards. You pay for what you keep, and send the rest back.

And, since 1995, there is the World Wide Web or the Internet. You can create your own Home Page to tell the world what postcards you have and which ones you are collecting. You can buy and sell, participate in postcard auctions, and read or write articles on the growing hobby.

Publications and the Web also announce postcard shows, by month, and by State in the U.S., for example. Postcard dealers drive their mini-vans to these shows, with as many as 100,000 postcards, divided into boxes, identified geographically or by theme. Shows are a big thing on weekends, and lines are always long before the beginning of a show, as enthusiasts eagerly prepare to seek their favorite subject. Some collectors make the rounds of the dealers with carefully made out want lists, more and more from the computerized listings they keep at home.

A stash of postcards is sometimes discovered when someone dies, and inheritors go through an attic truck or cupboard in the basement. Most of the time, the commercial value—any sentimental value aside—is not recognized, and the dirty paper which is taking up scare storage space is discarded. Sometimes, such collections survive, entering the market generally through auction sales.

How much do postcards cost?

A feature that helps determine the price of an old card is its condition, whether bent, torn or stained. Then the age of the card plays a role. Anything from the 19^th century will be at a premium. The first postcard was produced in Austria in 1869, but it was not until the 1890’s that you could find them coming into their own as a means of communication in Europe, the Americas, and Asia.

The subject depicted makes a difference in the price. Landscapes are among the cheapest; the most expensive being pictures of such topics as small trades, locomotives, fire brigades, disasters. Some postcards displayed works of artists; limited printings of art cards may bring among the highest values for postcards.

Where you buy the card also makes a big difference. If you buy them from someone anxious to get rid of “some old junk” in the attic, the cost will be much less than if you visit a store in a high-rent district where professional postcard dealers have bought the card at auction, entered it into their computerized inventory, perhaps advertised it for sale, and have now found you as a buyer!

If the postcard has a valuable postage stamp in good condition on it, the value can soar. Some people collect only “postally used” cards, that is cards that have cancellations and addresses, and usually messages. Others acquire unsent postcards as well, as the picture is the essential element for them.

The market price for the early 1900s El Salvador postcards can be generally estimated at US$5 to $20 per card, with cards dating from the 1950’s fetching $1 to $5. Most modern or common cards could dip as low as $0.50. Rarely would cards be above $30, but like everything else, prices are rising each year.

It also depends on the country where you buy your old postcards. Presently, the most expensive country to buy old postcards appears to be France. But the quality of cards in Paris or in the provinces is also high.

This extract was drawn from the author’s book, Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards. San Salvador, El Salvador: Fundación María Escalón de Núñez, 1999, 328 pp. Bilingual edition. ISBN 99923-20-01-1.

Read PART II

Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer

Early Salvadoran Postcards

Early Salvadoran Postcards is one of the first extensive studies published on the old postcards of a Latin American country. The book was conceptualized, researched, developed, designed, and printed in El Salvador.

The section “Collecting Postcards” is designed to answer the fundamental questions people may have about this hobby or pastime. What is a postcard? Where do you find postcards? How much do postcards cost? What do you do with your postcards? Features of old postcards: size & color, type, era, dating, publication, postage stamps, postal history, and censorship. READ MORE

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Queen Elizabeth’s Corsets

by Stephen H. Grant | Nov 27, 2020 | Amherst, Collecting, Folger, Library, Shakespeare

In 1926 Henry Folger purchased from Montmartre Gallery in London this object
advertised as “Queen Elizabeth’s Stays”

In October 1931, armored trucks left Brooklyn––where Shakespeare collectors Henry and Emily Folger had lived––for a night ride to Washington DC. Security guards packed Colt .45 pistols, riot guns, and tear-gas bombs. When Folger Shakespeare Library staff unpacked the 2100 cases constituting the Folger collection, they were in for a few surprises. Inside case no. 1911 they discovered catalog Curiosa C from Montmartre Gallery, 39 Wardour Street, London W1 and item no. 551, “Queen Elizabeth’s Corsets.”

In November 2016, I filled out a call slip in the Library and the item was brought to my table in the reading room. I opened a black box embossed in gold, “Queen Elizabeth’s Stays.” The plural signified a pair of stays, right and left side. The garment with faded Moroccan red-leather trimming was folded several times. Tucked over it were framed pedigree and receipt.

The article had been in the family of an aged woman, Mary Ann Pilgrim, for 300 years. Furthermore the Queen was said to have given the item to a Mrs. Shackles who in turn gave it to one of her maids named Pilgrim. The receipt signed by N. W. Davis indicates that Folger purchased the lot on November 11, 1926 for £10. The Gallery had priced it at £11. Folger customarily informed his dealers that he was taking 10% discount because he paid in ready cash!

Henry Folger was not the only New Yorker to covet the corset. George A. Plimpton attended Amherst College at the same time as Folger, and they both collected Shakespeare. Running into Folger on the street one day, Plimpton boasted, “I got ahead of you this time, Henry. I just ordered Elizabeth’s corset by special delivery.” Folger retorted, “You should have cabled. I did.”

Word slipped out about the royal undergarment under first Folger director William Adams Slade (1932–34). Tourists demanded to see the pair of stays. Slade tried to redirect their attention to another regal possession. “But we have Queen Elizabeth’s Bible, a very precious item, plush red with brass knobs.” “We want the corset,” chimed the chorus.

Second Folger director Joseph Quincy Adams (1934–1946) added the corset to his first exhibit in the Great Hall. The news reached the National Geographic magazine staff, who included the story in “Wonders of the New Washington,” vol. LXVII, no. 4, April 1935. A lady in the Folger library is pictured near the stone fireplace in the reading room unfolding the garment on a small round table.

Still looking for a story fifteen years later, National Geographic published “Folger: Biggest Little Library in the World,” vol. C, no. 3, September 1951. Model Betty Jo Hanna was photographed squeezing into the corset, aided by Folger cataloguer Lilly Stone (Lievsay).

As he recounts in his memoir, Folger reference librarian Giles Dawson began to doubt the authenticity of the corset. He sent a color photo of it to Victoria and Albert Museum in London for an appraisal. Assistant keeper in the Textiles Department Donald King––who would become the world’s expert on British textiles––sent back this assessment. “The corset illustrated appears to me to belong to the first half of the eighteenth century; no such corsets are known from the Elizabethan period.”

The New York Times released an article, “Legend of Corset of Queen Fizzles” on February 29, 1956. Third Folger director Louis B. Wright (1948–1968) was forced to admit, “the corset’s a fake.” It was quietly removed from the display case.

(This post originally appeared on Blogging Shakespeare by Shakespeare Birthplace Trust on December 23, 2016.)

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First Folio, the book that gave us Shakespeare:
On tour from the Folger Shakespeare Library in 2016

by Stephen H. Grant | Nov 17, 2020 | Books, Folger, Library, Literature, Shakespeare, Talk

UPDATED with a NEWS FLASH

Johns Hopkins University Press released Collecting Shakespeare: The Story of Henry and Emily Folger on the Ides of March in 2014, the 450th anniversary of the Bard’s birth. In 2016, the 400th anniversary of Shakespeare’s death, the most famous and valuable Shakespeare volume––the 1623 First Folio––went on tour to all 50 American states plus Washington DC and Puerto Rico. Eighteen of the 82 copies of the First Folio that Henry Folger purchased traveled. The institutional hosts were selected after a competitive process marked by 140 inquiries, 101 completed applications, and winning proposals from 23 museums, 20 universities, five public libraries, three historical societies, and one theater. The University of Notre Dame in Indiana opened the First Folio tour on January 4, 2016 and The Parthenon in Nashville, Tennessee closed the tour on January 2, 2017. This link to the Folger gives the information about where and when the rare volume was displayed.

The tour was an ambitious, complicated, and unprecedented project, made possible in part through the sponsorship of the National Endowment for the Humanities and Google.org. The Folger Library’s partners in organizing it were the Cincinnati Museum Center and the American Library Association.

A 1623 Shakespeare First Folio open to the title-page and Ben Jonson’s preface.

What is a folio? The word “folio” is a printer’s term, referring to the size of the page, approximately 9 by 13 inches. (A folio-size paper folded in half, is called a “quarto.”) When Shakespeare’s plays were printed individually, they appeared in quarto. When all his plays were posthumously published, they appeared in folio. The First Folio of 1623 is the sole source for half of Shakespeare’s dramatic production. Eighteen of his plays (including Macbeth, Julius Caesar, The Tempest, and As You Like It) had never been printed before and would probably be unknown today without this early compilation. They were offered to the public unbound, with pages uncut. Due to the large-size format of the volume, and the quality of the handmade sheets of rag paper imported from northern France, the sales price was high for the times. While attending the play cost one shilling six pence; the cost of this prestigious book was one pound (twenty shillings), or the equivalent of buying forty loaves of bread. By comparison, Sotheby’s in London sold a First Folio in 2006 for 2.8 million pounds, or the equivalent of buying 125 new automobiles.

A 1623 Shakespeare First Folio open to the Hamlet soliloquy, “To be or not to be.”
At every location on the tour, the First Folio was open to this page.

The First Folio is the most coveted secular book in the English language and one of the most important books in the world. Shakespearean scholars consider it to be the most authentic version of the Bard’s dramatic output. The original print run was about 750 copies. Only 233 copies of the First Folio are known to exist today. Why did Mr. Folger seek to acquire as many copies as he could? Every hand-printed book is unique. In the 17th century, with hand-set type, sometimes a letter wore out and was replaced. Spelling was not standardized. As many as nine typesetters or compositors worked on the First Folio in the printing shop with idiosyncrasies such that experts can identify which compositor worked on which copy. Many of the copies have marginalia (words, phrases, poems, drawings) added in the margins by avid readers over the centuries. Some assertive readers considered that they could improve upon the Bard’s English and crossed out his words and inserted their own!

My major Folger talks for the remainder of 2016 were:

New Mexico Museum of Art Talk Friday, Feb. 19, 2016 at 2 PM

Reception by Friends of the Santa Fe Public Library, Feb. 20, 2016 5:30 – 7:30 PM

Stanford University Book Store Talk Wednesday, Feb. 24, 2016 at 6 PM

Marin County Book Passage Talk Thursday, Feb. 25, 2016 at 7:00 PM

The Homestead, Hot Springs, Va. Talk Saturday, Mar. 12 at 4 PM

San Diego Public Library Talk Wednesday, June 22, 2016 at 6:30 PM

San Francisco Public Library Talk Thursday, June 23, 2016 at 6 PM

NEWS FLASH

On October 14, 2020, Christie’s/NYC announced a world auction record for a printed work of literature: a Shakespeare First Folio. After a suspenseful six-minute bidding battle between three telephone buyers, the item was purchased for $9,978,000. This was the first time in almost two decades a copy had hit the market. The successful bidder was Stephan Loewentheil, founder and president of the 19th Century Rare Book and Photograph Shop located in Brooklyn NY and Baltimore MD.

One person who lapped up the news was Anthony James West of High Halden, Kent. Author of “The Shakespeare First Folio: The History of the Book Volume II A New Worldwide Census of First Folios” (OUP, 2003), Anthony emailed me his reaction:

“It’s West 50. I doubt whether Folger knew about it. I examined it in 1993. It’s a fine copy, in good condition, with all original leaves present and a good binding. For anyone aware of the great Shakespeare editing tradition in the eighteenth century with its culmination in Edmond Malone, the associated letter from Malone is a special bonus. I remember being a bit awed reading it.”

Title Page of my copy of “The Shakespeare First Folio: The History of the Book Volume II A New Worldwide Census of First Folios

Anthony James West and wife Serena at his left on Oct. 11, 2017 at Blackheath Halls, London at my talk entitled, “Collecting Shakespeare: The Story of Henry and Emily Folger

Anthony James West and Stephen Grant by the West hearth in Kent swap stories about the late head of reader services at the Folger, Betsy Walsh, shortly after her memorial service

(This post was originally published on Johns Hopkins University Press Blog on February 12, 2016). It has been updated with the announcement on October 14, 2020.)

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Picture Postcards of France I

by Stephen H. Grant | Nov 4, 2020 | Amherst, Collecting, Culture, Deltiology, French, Postcards, Travel

When I was a French major at Amherst College in the early 1960s, I had NO IDEA a half-century later I would be double billed as Biographer/Deltiologist. I wrote the first biography or life story of an Amherst alum from the class of 1879 Henry Clay Folger who––with his Vassar-educated wife Emily––founded the Folger Shakespeare Library on Capitol Hill (COLLECTING SHAKESPEARE: THE STORY OF HENRY AND EMILY FOLGER). Deltiology refers to the collection and analysis of (primarily vintage) picture postcards.

While at Amherst, I dated a young French lady who was studying in my home town of Wellesley, Mass. as an American Field Service exchange student. She helped me with my imperfect subjunctive, which led to not a total surprise when we married two years after my college graduation during my stint as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Cote d’Ivoire. While we are no longer married, our union spanned two centuries.

POSTCARD 1

During the union we visited together––and eventually with our two children––many interesting spots in France. It’s time to take a selective deltiological tour. Annick Pasquet was born in the 17th arrondissement of Paris during the difficult days of WWII. Her younger brother Alain Pasquet was also born in Paris. Their uncle Bernard Pasquet lived in the 20th arrondissement, next to a flower shop across from metro Pont de Vincennes. POSTCARD 1 of the “Place de la Concorde,” Paris was sent to Bourg (Ain) the year my father (Amherst College 1930) was born, 1909.

The 3,000-year-old granite obelisk in the center of the Place de la Concorde had been erected next to its twin outside the Temple of Luxor in Upper (southern) Egypt by Pharaoh Ramses II. I walked by the twin during the 1980s when I worked in the education office of USAID in Cairo and we were building schools in rural areas. In 1830, Pasha Mohamed Ali, ruler of Egypt, in a good-will gesture offered one of the pair of obelisks to King Louis-Philippe of France. The King, in exchange, gave the Pasha a mechanical clock which lies in the clock-tower of the Cairo Citadel. It has never worked! Who knew? I believe many of the readers of this post have seen the obelisk monument (located near the American Embassy) with its addition of a gold-leaf cap placed in 1998 under President Jacques Chirac.

I purchased this postcard at Carré Marigny, near the Marigny Theatre in the 8th arrondissement, near metro George V, and a short walk from the Place de la Concorde. This area first started as a weekend flea market dedicated to philately. Later the stamp collectors welcomed their first cousins, the postcard collectors. Thirdly, telephone cards were added as a momentary rage, and fourthly, pins. While you can find postcards sur les quais chez les bouquinistes where they are sold en vrac, at Marigny and in postcard boutiques they are sorted for your convenience. By country, Paris by arrondissement, France by two-digit codes (83 for Bouches-du-Rhône, 44 for Loire Atlantique, 20 for Corsica), and by theme (tobacco, steamships, saucy, etc.).

POSTCARD 2a

POSTCARD 2a depicts Port-de-Bouc, an industrial city in the Department of Bouches-du-Rhône on the Mediterranean, in particular the city’s “pont levis sur le canal d’Arles.” I remember driving to Port-de-Bouc with Annick in the 1990s. She showed me the neighborhood in which her family lived. Much had changed; she did not find the house, but a nearby sports bar had survived. What is notable about this postcard is its other side, usually used for the address.

POSTCARD 2b

On this side––POSTCARD 2b––my late father-in-law Robert Pasquet penned a most moving greeting to me on my 52nd birthday. At the outset, he fears he will spoil the postcard by writing on it. Au contraire, Robert enriches it. Robert refers to Bali toward the end; I served as a Foreign Service officer in Indonesia for four years. Annick taught French and English at the French lycée in Jakarta. In my family it was my mother who kept track of family birthdays; in Annick’s it was “Papa Robert.” Annick’s brother Jean-Louis Pasquet was born in Port-de-Bouc.

POSTCARD 3

My former wife had attended a lycée « pilote » on the outskirts of Marseille, Marseilleveyre. Marseille is also in the Department of Bouches-du-Rhône. Marseille’s best-known symbol, the Catholic basilica Notre-Dame de la Garde in the city center on a hill feels it when the strong, cold, northwesterly « mistral » wind blows. See « Effet du Mistral à Marseille, » the sepia POSTCARD 3 from the 1920s.

POSTCARD 4

One hundred miles to the east of Marseille on the Mediterranean Sea is the city of Cannes, in the Department of Alpes-Maritimes, code 06, in this sepia POSTCARD 4 of « La Plage » produced in Strasbourg. A second postcard of that city, « Cannes, le port, » POSTCARD 5, goes back to the first decade of the 20th century.

POSTCARD 5

This colorful card was produced in Nuremberg. The Germans were known for their superior printing presses during the golden age of postcards, 1900–1930. The artist is named Manuel Wielandt, and the year of the painting was 1899. Born in Lowenstein, (Baden-Württemberg) Germany in 1863, Wielandt died in 1922. He reveled in painting ports along the French and Italian Rivieras. His oil paintings adorn exactly 106 postcards, of which I am the proud owner of two, Cannes and Nice.

POSTCARD 6

Twenty-five miles further to the east of Cannes is the much larger port city of Nice, the capital of Alpes-Maritimes. POSTCARD 6 of the « Promenade des Etats-Unis » in Nice was produced in Nice, It extends from the Nice-Côte d’Azur airport on the west to the Quai des Etats-Unis on the east, or a distance of 4 miles along the Mediterranean. Compared to the sandy beach in Cannes, the beach in Nice consists of largish round pebbles or « galets. »

POSTCARD 7

Now let’s touch down on the inland perfume city of Grasse, also in Alpes Maritimes, where my former wife’s family has lived for decades. When you walk through the vieille ville, you can sniff the aroma of lavender in the stone walls built centuries ago. Grasse lies 12 mi. from Cannes and 27 mi. from Nice. I was married in Grasse, and so were my children. POSTCARD 7 of « Fontaine du Thouron » shows an area of the city and a curious double stairway we have all gone up and down countless times. In the middle is a bronze statue of a nymph holding a lyre, installed in 1887, but mysteriously stolen in 1992. This black-and-white POSTCARD 7 was sent in 1904 to Montargis (Loiret), where my late father-in-law Robert Pasquet was born. Annick’s sister Joëlle and brother Philippe Pasquet were both born in Grasse.

I will share two more postcards with you in this initial post of POSTCARDS OF FRANCE. They depict two towns that I have never visited. However, Annick lived there with her family when she was growing up and would evoke life there from time to time. Consequently, when I went to postcard sales or flea markets in France I added La Ferté-sous-Jouarre and Lizy-sur-Ourcq to my list of what I was seeking. Don’t you just love those names? They are both towns in the Department of Seine-et-Marne. They are eight miles apart. The Seine and Marne Rivers are in the Ile-de-France region of north central France.

POSTCARD 8

POSTCARD 8 « 591 LA FERTÉ-SOUS-JOUARRE (S.et-M.) ––Le Quai et embouchure du Petit Morin » identifies the photographer of this bucolic river scene, G. Brindelet, as well as the studio address. Good advertising. The serial number 591 is extremely useful, as many postcard producers establish sets; when you get 591 you might want to look for 590 or 592 for other views of that particular location. Annick’s sister Michele Pasquet was born in La Ferté-sous-Jouarre.

POSTCARD 9a

POSTCARD 9a shows the « Place du Marché et Grande Rue » of Lizy-sur OURCQ. In the lower left you see the name of the publisher, Sover. In this market place one can (with some difficulty) distinguish these businesses : imprimerie, couronnes mortuaires, librairie mercerie G. Flon, a restaurant, and pharmacie parisienne. Three people have stopped to pose for the photographer ; the other two who are nearby are unaware of their possible postcard fame.

POSTCARD 9b

The more interesting aspect of this postcard may be the address side, POSTCARD 9b. The postmark allows the deltiologist to decipher LIZI S/ OURCQ SEINE ET MARNE. The date indicates Mar. 14, 1910. The correspondent’s message is a tender greeting, « Bien à toi mon petit Arthur » and the closing, « A bientôt » followed by an illegible signature. Anyone care to try their hand at deciphering the signature? The postcard is addressed to Mr Arthur Quentin, Brigadier rata, 229e Art. 29e Bie, Secteur P 167. There you have it: rank (brigadier), unit (229th artillery regiment, 29th battery), and postal sector (167). « Rata » is a synonym for « poilu, » a slang allusion (regarding their moustaches or beards) to common soldiers around the period of WWI. There is no sign of a postage stamp on either side of the postcard. None was required as military correspondence (C.M.) was free. Mail carriers in France knew exactly how to interpret « postal sector 167, » but you wouldn’t want to give away your coordinates to the enemy, would you?

POSTCARD 10a

POSTCARD 10b

Three years after his postcard (2a-2b above) of Port-de-Bouc, my father-in-law Robert Pasquet sent me a postcard of La Place Blanche in Paris. Robert grew up in Montargis, an hour’s train ride south of Paris. He admits to reliving his youth in contemplating this postcard he sent me when I was in my last Foreign Service assignment in El Salvador, which he would soon visit in 1996. By the shape of the head, the cyclist behind the car resembles remarkably Robert’s late younger brother (and only sibling), Bernard, who died in 1991. At one time Robert owned a “frégate,” an executive saloon car made by Renault; that is the make of car on the right. In 10b, Robert announces that he is thoughtfully sending me other cards for my collection. Little could he or I know that a quarter of a century later I would be posting his correspondence, in which he reports having wished happy birthday to my son.

The next stop on a deltiological tour of France will be in Brittany.

READ “Picture Postcards of France II”

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Emily Jordan Folger’s Deltiological Profile

by Stephen H. Grant | Oct 27, 2020 | Collecting, Deltiology, Folger, Library, Postcards, Shakespeare

UPDATED with a NEWS FLASH

It would be more than a stretch to claim that Henry and Emily Folger were deltiologists, that is, as Collins Dictionary reminds us, persons who collect and study picture postcards. However, postcards played a definite role in each of their lives. Emily’s deltiological profile includes picking out a postcard and slipping it in an envelope along with a letter. Secondly she sends postal cards, where the postage value is imprinted on the card. Let’s look at these two aspects, and in the next two posts we’ll turn to Henry Clay Folger and examine his deltiological profile.

Envelope sent from Glen Cove, NY on Apr. 14, 1932 to Mrs. H. C. Folger at 3501 Newark St., NW Washington. Folger Archives Box 26, photo by Stephen Grant.

This is the first time I have displayed on The Collation an envelope, as distinct from a postcard. The preprinted two-cent red and white stamp honors George Washington. The head is in profile looking left. On the lower right a postal clerk has added “D.C.” In the upper left of the envelope a Folger staffer (I wonder who and when) has written in pencil, R. Lockwood, the name of Mrs. Folger’s correspondent.

It was not the butler but the gardener! On Apr. 13, 1932, the Folgers’ gardener, Richard Lockwood, folded up a modest unpunctuated letter to Mrs. Folger and inserted it in an envelope that was sent to her on Apr. 14, 1932. Anyone who has looked through correspondence to Mrs. Folger in the Folger Coll. knows that 3501 Newark St., Washington, DC is not where she lived in 1932. She lived at 11 St. Andrews Lane, Glen Cove, Long Island, NY. As I researched the lives of the Folger couple for the biography, I started to trace all the places where they lived. A number of biographers swear by the recipe of starting to organize thoughts on their subject by establishing a time line. This formula can break down when their subjects travel. Fortunately for us researchers, the Folgers generally saved not only the letters they received but their envelopes. In this case, we can assume that Emily was indeed at 3501 Newark St. Scores of envelopes written to Emily, in contrast, are marked with forwarding addresses, as she has moved from time to time to other addresses. Let me illustrate with a concrete example. Looking around for one now, let’s see, oh this one will do.

Envelope sent from The White House on Dec. 2, 1932 to Mrs. Henry G. Folger. Folger Archives Box 26, photo by Stephen Grant.

On Dec. 2, 1932, a White House aide wrote Mrs. Folger, thinking she was in Glen Cove. Apparently no private secretary in the Executive Mansion was aware that her late husband was named after Henry Clay. They mistakenly wrote to “Mrs. Henry G. Folger.” Well, bad luck, Mrs. Folger had decamped to the Hotel Plaza in Washington. The stamp cancellation reminds us to “Mail Early for Christmas.” Pardon the aside to make a point about forwarding addresses; now we get back to the Lockwood correspondence.

Letter from R. Lockwood in Glen Cove on Apr. 13, 1932 to Mrs. Folger written on lined paper. Folger Archives Box 26, photo by Stephen Grant.

“Thank you for the check and the postcard.” Ah ha! Mrs. Folger threw in a postcard. It’s only by opening other correspondence between the two that I discovered that the R. stood for Richard and that he was a gardener due to his line “I am making a new cinder path in the upper garden and I got a great deal of raking done.” I have no idea what postcard Mrs. Folger sent her gardener. Probably not an early card of the Folger, as I believe they were first issued in late 1933. I am in a position to give the reader a picture of what the Folger residence—including the front garden—looks like now. The current homeowner showed me around the house.

Recent picture of 11 St. Andrews Lane, Glen Cove, Long Island, NY. Photo by Stephen Grant.

Prior to 2019, I had not paid any attention to the 3501 Newark St. address. Emily did live in Washington, DC growing up, as her father worked as an attorney at the Treasury Department. The family lived at M and 12th St., NW. When she returned to Washington, DC as an adult she stayed in a hotel or was invited by friends. The date of the mailing, April 14, 1932, is only a few days before the dedication of the Folger Library on Shakespeare’s 368th birthday. Emily’s emotions must have been high as she was welcomed into 3501 Newark St. Her hosts were Mr. and Mrs. Avery Coonley. Their 1793 farmhouse was on a grassy estate called Rosedale. Mrs. Coonley was Queene Ferry Coonley, class of 1896 at Vassar College. In the same year, Emily received her M.A. from Vassar in Shakespeare Studies, one of only 250 women in America to have reached that academic level. Perhaps the two high-powered Vassar alums had met in Poughkeepsie?

On Oct. 19, 1933, Frances M. Leich (whom we ran into in my previous post) wrote Mrs. Folger, thanking her for her postal. Now we know she purchased and sent postal cards. I’ll show the whole letter, as it reveals more.

Letter from Frances M. Leich sent on Oct. 19, 1933 from Washington, DC to Mrs. Folger at 11 St. Andrews Lane, Glen Cove, Long Island, NY. Folger Archives Box 26, photo by Stephen Grant.

We learn about a meeting between Leich and Mr. Slade at the Folger and we also become aware of a misunderstanding between Leich and Mrs. Folger. William Adams Slade was the first director of the Folger Shakespeare Library, serving from late 1931 till the summer of 1934. He came from the Library of Congress as chief bibliographer and returned there as chief reference librarian. In this photo he is sitting at the director’s desk in the Folger, reviewing correspondence.

William Adams Slade, first director of the Folger Shakespeare Library, 1931 ̵ 1934. Photo courtesy of the Library of Congress.

In a separate letter, Leich informed Mrs. Folger how he had not been able to convince the director of the benefit of selling picture postcards of the Folger Shakespeare Library. Slade “stated the fact that, the Library was not equipped for selling cards. I mentioned that only a desk would be required, and that I would be glad to sell them. He is to think the matter over.” Too bad, Slade did not realize the marketing value of selling postcards of the fledgling Folger on the Folger premises.

The misunderstanding between Leich and Mrs. Folger is fascinating to me. While Frances was thinking about the marketing value of picture postcards, Emily was focused on the Folger collection. It seems to be Emily wanted to start a collection of Folger postcards in the library as witness to the major new architectural addition to Capitol Hill. Bless you, Emily! I cannot see that—with one exception—the Folger has grasped the merits of including picture postcards in the Folger collection. In black box 5 there is one postally used picture postcard, a gift.

Postcard view of the Folger looking southeast from the corner of East Capitol St. and Second St., SE., c. early 1934. Black box 5, photo by Stephen Grant.

The photographer is standing near the corner of East Capitol St. and Second St., SE. Look at the thick colorful planting on the north and west sides of the Folger. The magnolia tree Mrs. Folger planted on the west side in 1932 looks to be not much higher than one story. The west side entrance you see here is no longer used, though the door is technically still present (as a window in the gift shop) and the stairs were simply moved a few feet northward. The nine bas relief sculptures on the north façade are visible but do not clearly stand out from this angle and distance. The white marble building is spic and span. I estimate that this photograph was taken in 1934.

View of the Folger from the northwest corner looking south, July 2019.

My, look how the magnolia tree Mrs. Folger planted on the northwest side of the Folger has grown since four score and seven years ago! Perhaps two-and-a-half stories high now? The scaffolding reveals the facelift the Folger façades are receiving for the first time since the structure was built in 1930 ̵ 32.

Mrs. Folger saved a leaf—preserved in the Folger archives—from this southern Magnolia tree with white blossoms.

Magnolia leaf saved by Mrs. Folger. Folger Archives Black Box 4, photo by Stephen Grant.

Someone WROTE on the leaf, “Memento First Magnolia Leaf when tree was planted, Folger S. Library, Washington, D.C.” Surely it was Mrs. Folger who lovingly folded around the leaf a page of stationary from The Homestead in Hot Springs, VA, the luxury spa where the couple summered, of course bringing along their card catalog.

Address and message side of the above postcard, c. early 1934. Photo by Stephen Grant.

The card was published and distributed by the Washington News Company for the American News Company. The first letters W N C are displayed inside a three-leaf clover. Readers, I hope you don’t miss the production serial number in the lower left corner: 65827. This is a vital identity for this postcard. 65826 might well be another picture of the edifice from a different angle. 65828 might show another building on Capitol Hill. Folger acquisitions staffer Melissa Cook in 1997 wrote the accession number F243405 in pencil to the left of the green one-cent stamp of George Washington of the presidential series issued in 1938.

Let’s examine how the Folger Library is described over the message side of the postcard. “More than 70,000 volumes.” True. Slade wrote that there were 92,000 volumes that arrived in the fall of 1931 from their various storage locations in Brooklyn and Manhattan. “$10,000,000 endowment fund.” True. That figure appears in the June 25, 1930 probated version of Henry Folger’s will (Folger Archives Box 30). The library is “administered by the trustees of Amherst College.” True. “By the bequest of the late Henry Clay Folger the ownership in trust of the Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington is vested in the trustees of Amherst College” (FSL director’s report 1938 ̵ 1939). For the first few decades of the library’s existence the above phrase in quotes was printed on its stationary letterhead. In 2005 Amherst trustees delegated revocable management authority to establish a local board of governors in Washington, DC. “William A. Slade is librarian, and Prof. Joseph Q. Adams director of research.” True, but incomplete. There existed an awkward arrangement where Slade was referred to as either librarian or director. Slade’s correspondence on Folger Library letterhead “Office of the Director” is contained in Folger Archives Box 58. In addition, the Folger director’s annual reports for 1932-1933 and 1933-1934 to the Amherst College trustees are authored by William Adams Slade. Joseph Quincy Adams would become the Folger’s second director.

Now for name, address, and message of the postcard in question.

Mrs. Marina Mosley, Blue Ridge Sanitorium, Charlottesville, VA.

“Monday a.m. Having a lovely visit in a lovely place. We plan a trip to Annapolis tomorrow which will all be new to me. Spent yesterday with Irving and Ann at Irvs. Thought of you. Marie Christine, Flossie Mai and others. Hope to see you. Love, Laurie.” I have little to say about the message. But we are left to muse on what her visit to the Folger might have entailed on Aug. 12, 1940 under the directorship of Joseph Q. Adams. Was QE1’s faux corset still in the display case?

Let’s take stock. How many postally unused postcards of the Folger are in black box 5? 47, and they are all black-and-white. How many postally used postcards of the Folger did I find in black box 5? Only one! It is in color. Marked on it is “Gift from Julie Ainsworth” in the handwriting of Laura Cofield, then-Head of Acquisitions. As many collators will remember, the Oct. 17, 2011 blog post was a tribute to Julie Ainsworth, Head of Photography and Digital Imaging. Is 48 the total number of the library’s collection of black-and-white or color postcards of the Folger library, its exterior, interior, and artifacts? Help! This is my crocodile mystery.

NEWS FLASH

In mid-October 2020, as a crucial initial step in the excavation for the Wonder of Will addition to the Folger Shakespeare Library, Emily Folger’s magnolia tree MOVED!

Emily Folger’s magnolia tree circled in red. Photo by Apple Maps

Root ball covered with burlap and wire fencing, pipes inserted underneath. Photo by Ednajane Truax

Two cats provided movement. Photo by Ednajane Truax

Tree has reached destination, 100 feet to the south. Photo by Ednajane Truax

Photo of Emily Folger’s magnolia by Stephen Grant, 2019.

(This post was originally published on the Folger Shakespeare Library’s research blog The Collation on September 12, 2019. It has been updated with the Library’s recent renovation images of the historic magnolia tree being moved in the west garden. )

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Shakespeare Collector Henry Clay Folger and President Calvin Coolidge

by Stephen H. Grant | Oct 19, 2020 | Amherst, Books, Folger, Shakespeare

Shakespeare collector Henry Clay Folger and President Calvin Coolidge were 6th cousins, once removed; surely, they never knew it. They both graduated with a B. A. degree from Amherst College in Amherst, Massachusetts; Folger in 1879, Coolidge in 1895. They would not have met at college reunions, held every five years, because they were not in the same cycle. They were not in the same college fraternity. They may never have met.

Photo 1: Henry Folger oil portrait by Frank O. Salisbury, 1927, hanging in the reading room at the Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, D.C.

They each enjoyed the friendship of an Amherst classmate who would become well-known. Henry’s roommate for four years was Charles Millard Pratt, also from Brooklyn, who became vice-president of Standard Oil Company of Kentucky while Henry was president of Standard Oil Company of New York. Calvin’s classmate was Dwight Morrow, attorney at J. P. Morgan and Ambassador to Mexico. After Henry Folger died in 1930, the terms of his will became known whereby the Amherst College trustees would administer the Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, D.C. When the first chairman of the trustees’ Folger library committee, Dwight Morrow, died in 1931, Calvin Coolidge became the second chairman.

Photo 2: Calvin Coolidge oil portrait by Frank O. Salisbury, 1928. This copy he painted in 1934–commissioned by members of the
American Antiquarian society–was hung in the Oval Office at the request of President Ronald Reagan.

It is not generally known that Folger and Coolidge had decided to have their portraits painted by the same artist, the Brit, Frank O. Salisbury. Known as Britain’s “Painter Laureate,” he is responsible for portraits of twenty-five members of the House of Windsor from King George V to Princess Elizabeth. The painter divided his time between England and America, doing very well for himself financially. On the highest hill overlooking London, he built a property called Sarum Chase on Hampstead Heath that sold in 2005 for over £9 million. Folger sat for Salisbury on January 29, 1927 in the painter’s studio in the Waldorf Hotel in New York City. He was delighted when Folger agreed to pose in his colorful academic robe with an Amherst purple hood. Salisbury beseeched Folger to bring something to hold in his hands. He arrived with a small stout book from his collection, the first attempt at a collected edition of Shakespeare’s works called the Pavier quartos, printed in London in 1619. The seventeenth-century book buyer, Edward Gwynn, had stamped his name in gold letters on the original binding. Folger came to the sitting alone by subway, with the precious volume wrapped up in a newspaper.

Photo 3: Photo of Salisbury while painting the Coolidge portrait, 1928 from the painter’s book, Portrait and Pageant, 1944.

Salisbury’s first trip to Washington, D.C. was during a snowy Christmas season in 1928. When Coolidge greeted the painter, he apologized by saying, “There is very little in these days that I can offer you,” for it was the Prohibition era. The artist related in his memoir, “There was a dish of fruit on the table, from which he took an apple and pared it, cutting it in two, and offering me the top half.” Salisbury remarked on how little the president spoke to his guests. During lunchtime, Coolidge directed “most of his conversation to his white collie dog.” The chief executive invited Salisbury to accompany him by special train to Georgia for a stay on Sapelo Island which included a wild turkey hunt at dawn. When the time came for the first sitting, Coolidge appeared in a black suit, “but he looked like a parson.” He agreed to change into a light suit. A photograph taken during the sitting shows Salisbury could not dissimulate an irascible scowl. Having apprenticed in a stained glass factory, the painter came to adore vibrant colors, throwing up his hands in despair in front of a plain suit.

Photo 4: Frank O. and Maude Salisbury on board the S.S. Olympic, 1932.

(This post originally appeared on Johns Hopkins University Press Blog on April 03, 2019)

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Salvadoran Postcards & Libraries

by Stephen H. Grant | Oct 7, 2020 | Books, Collecting, Deltiology, El Salvador, Postcards

Where were you for Y2K, at the change of millennia from 1999 to 2000?

I was in El Salvador as deputy leader of the economic growth strategic team at USAID/San Salvador in El Salvador, Central America. This team’s portfolio included 15 activities in education, training, agriculture, microenterprise, infrastructure, land titling, and economic policy. A neighbor, Mary, was team leader and the American Embassy’s “duty officer” that week. As the last hours of 1999 ebbed, no one knew for sure what worldwide calamity might befall the planet. Many computer programs allowed only two digits (e.g., 99 instead of 1999). People feared that computers would be unable to operate when the date descended from “99” to “00.” Would computers crash? The Embassy communications officer delivered to Mary’s residence an incredible set of telephones and coded numbers so she could connect virtually with anyone anywhere in case of an emergency. At midnight no disaster was reported and immense panic turned to utter relief.

Alongside my work with the Salvadoran Ministry of Education and UNICEF in the late 1990s, I conducted research to produce a bilingual book––printed in San Salvador in 1999––on vintage Salvadoran postcards (Fig. 1).

Fig. 1. POSTALES SALVADOREÑAS DEL AYER/EARLY SALVADORAN POSTCARDS

The book was officially launched on Dec. 1, 1999 in the David J. Guzmán National Museum in San Salvador (Fig. 2, Fig. 3).

Fig. 2. Postcard of Wharf in Acajutla, El Salvador sent on Mar. 11, 1911

Fig. 3. Invitation to Book Launch in David J. Guzmán National Museum

Speakers included Pedro Antonio Escalante Arce, Secretary of Salvadoran Academy of History; Gustavo Herodier, President of CONCULTURA; Anne Patterson, American Ambassador; Mauricio Samayoa, President of Banco Cuscatlan, and the author.

Since the 1980s, I had been a “deltiologist,” that is someone who collects, studies, and analyzes picture postcards. No book on Salvadoran postcards had ever been written before. I had the honor to present the volume to the vice-president of El Salvador, Carlos Quintanilla Schmidt (Fig. 4).

Fig. 4. Presentation to Vice-President of the Republic of El Salvador

A letter of thanks (Fig. 5, Fig.6) points to his affirmation that studying their roots will permit Salvadorans to create their own identity as a nation.

Fig. 5. Vice-President’s Expression of Gratitude, page one

Fig. 6. Vice-President’s Expression of Gratitude, page two

In presenting a copy of Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer to Eugenia López (Fig. 7), director of the Salvadoran National Archives, I knew the volume would be used.

Fig. 7. Presentation to Director of National Archives of El Salvador

In her letter of appreciation, the director cited the enormous originality in selecting picture postcards as a basis for an historical study adding to the value of providing an accompanying historical narration (Fig. 8, Fig. 9).

Fig. 8. Expression of Gratitude from Director of National Archives, page one

Fig. 9. Expression of Gratitude from Director of National Archives, page two

Early Salvadoran Postcards was for sale in several San Salvador bookstores, in two Antigua, Guatemala bookshops, from the publisher María Escalón de Núñez Foundation in San Salvador, from the sponsor Banco Cuscatlán, and on Amazon. As befitting a coffee-table book that weighs 5 lbs., the book joined other large-size, profusely illustrated tomes in one San Salvador gift shop display rack (Fig. 10), where my neighbors consisted of such illustrious artists as Renoir, Cezanne, Gauguin, and Antoine de St. Exupéry.

Fig. 10. Famous Neighbors in San Salvador Book Shop

Maritza Lara de Romero representing the Interamerican Association of Librarians of El Salvador and Luz de Maria de Garcia, head of the Manuel Gallardo Library in Santa Tecla, El Salvador, jointly bestowed an award (Fig. 11) recognizing my collaboration.

Fig. 11. Award from Interamerican Library Association, Gallardo Library

I conducted research in the rich Gallardo Library and attended meetings of the Association. The Ateneo (Athenaeum) de Salvador conferred a diploma of guest membership (Fig. 12).

Fig. 12. Award from Ateneo of El Salvador

Dr. Mario Garcia Aldana, secretary general of the organization, in a letter (Fig. 13) expressed gratitude for my having saved historic images of the country’s past and patiently recorded information about each one.

Fig. 13. Expression of Gratitude from Ateneo of El Salvador

On my travels to the Caribbean and South America, I often meet with librarians, archivists, and educators. In St. Thomas, I met with Dr. David Hall, president of the University of the Virgin Islands (UVI). In presenting him with the Salvadoran postcard book for the University library, a special participant in the ceremony was my Peace Corps director, Henry Wheatley (on the right), going back to 1966 in Cote d’Ivoire, West Africa. He is a Virgin Islander, whose late wife used to work for the university (Fig. 14, Fig. 15, Fig. 16, Fig. 17). I have agreed to act as advisor to the UVI if they identify a local prospect to begin research on a similar postcard book project.

Fig. 14. Presentation to President of University of Virgin Islands

Fig. 15. Author’s Inscription in Memory of Artrelle M. Wheatley

Fig. 16. Welcome Sign to University of Virgin Islands in St. Thomas

Fig. 17. Entrance to Ralph M. Paiewonsky Library at UVI

Director-general of national archives in Havana, Cuba, Martha Ferriol, had me meet with her assistant Lopez for a presentation (Fig. 18).

Fig. 18. Presentation of Salvadoran Postcard Book to National Archives of Cuba

I also gave the national archives in Havana several old picture postcards of Cuba for its collection (Fig. 19).

Fi. 19. Presentation of Old Cuban Postcards to National Archives of Cuba

Lopez asked about the value of the cards and where I had acquired them. The archives recorded the gift on its website. Finally, I made a similar presentation to Alexandra Werneck, supervisor in the biblioteca nacional in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil (Fig. 20).

Fig. 20. Presentation of Book to Biblioteca Nacional in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

In the year Y2K, I returned from El Salvador to Washington, DC, to devote my last three years as a Foreign Service officer coordinating support for USAID programs in 14 West African countries. The residential community I reverted to––Lyon Village in Arlington, Virginia––contained numerous Salvadoran families and business operations including restaurants. Leading up to National Library Week in 2007, I gave a talk in the Arlington Central Library on Early Salvadoran Postcards (Fig. 21). Arlington maintains a sister-city relationship with St. Miguel in El Salvador.

Fig. 21. Author’s Book Talk and Signing at Arlington, Virginia Library

When I moved to Arlington, Va. in 1975, the predominant immigrant group appeared to be Vietnamese, as the Vietnam Was ended. In 2000, it appeared to be Salvadoran, after their Civil War. As an example, during my years abroad in the Foreign Service I rented my house early on to Vietnamese and toward the end to Salvadorans. Now as a retiree I hire mainly Salvadorans for lawn and tree care. These excellent workers are learning a trade, providing needed services, and,

in this case, adding to their home library a book that they can use to explain to the children about the country they come from, and can show to their parents who grew up in a very different El Salvador from that of today (Fig. 22, Fig. 23, Fig. 24).

Fig. 22. Salvadoran Arborists Receive Postcard Book in Northern Virginia

Fig. 23. First Glimpse into book on Salvadoran History 1900–1950

Fig. 24. Bilingual Book is Personally Inscribed to Arborists

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Ben Greet: “Thank God for Henry Clay Folger”

by Stephen H. Grant | Sep 30, 2020 | Deltiology, England, Folger, Postcards, Shakespeare

For the first 2020 post in the series “Postcards in the Folger Archives,” dear Collators, we’ll try something new. We’ll pick a friend of both Henry and Emily Folger and follow a timeline. This mysterious friend was born on a ship moored in the shadow of the Tower of London, was considered by some to be the father of the open-air theatre, played before a million schoolchildren, and spent much of his life promoting the educational value of drama in general, and Shakespeare in particular. Sir Philip “Ben” Greet’s sense of timing was so exquisite that he was born the same year as Henry Folger (1857) and died the same year as Emily Folger (1936).

September 24, 1857
Ben Greet is born in London.

March 1883
Greet makes his London stage debut Caius Lucius in Cymbeline.

1902–1914
Ben Greet and company bring Shakespeare and other plays to theaters, churches, halls, and open-air spaces on both sides of the Atlantic

Ben Greet in As You Like It, circa 1910 (Art File G816.5 no.2 PHOTO)

Here is the handsome program cover for the open-air performance of As You Like It that Henry and Emily attend at Columbia University, New York on Thursday afternoon, May 14, 1903.

Program Cover for As You Like It under stage direction of Ben Greet. (Folger Archives Box 10)

April 5, 1904
The Folgers attend a 15th century morality play, Everyman, performed by Ben Greet and the Elizabethan Stage Society of England in Association Hall, Brooklyn. Costumes are designed from Flemish tapestries of the 15th c., music of the 13th and 14th c.

It will come to no one’s surprise that the Folgers saved what seems like every ticket stub to every play and other important cultural event of their lives. (For example, there is ticket no. 33A that allowed Henry as an Amherst senior (after he paid the admission charge of fifty cents) to hear 76-year-old Ralph Waldo Emerson speak at the college. Enraptured by Emerson’s eloquence, Henry then set about reading all the New England poet had written about Shakespeare. And the rest, as they say, is history…) For Everyman, the Folgers had a good view of the stage from parquet seats E20 and E21 on Tuesday, April 5, 1904.

Folgers’ ticket stubs for Ben Greet performance of Everyman (Folger Archive Box 10)

May 14, 1904
The Folgers attend Twelfth Night by Ben Greet Players, The People’s Institute in Manhattan, seats C5-6 in Orch. (Folger Archives Box 10).

April 1905
Ben Greet and his “Ben Greet Players of London” put on a “Shakespearean Festival”

Art Box S659 no.1 (size XL)

November-December 1905
The envelope below shows the going rate in 1905 for a first-class letter in the U.S., with a red two-cent stamp depicting George Washington.

Ben Greet’s envelope sent to Henry Folger in Brooklyn (Folger Archives Box 26)

Knowing how Henry Folger reaches out to Shakespearean actors and actresses who come to New York, I am not surprised to discover that during the stay of Ben Greet and his players over several weeks in New York (at the City Club of New York at 55–57 West 44th St.) the collector invites the director for a theatrical tête-à-tête.

Ben Greet’s letter to Henry Folger in Brooklyn (Folger Archives Box 26)

Nov. 30 [1905]
Dear Mr. Folger,
Yes: I shall be delighted to dine with you on Monday. I have to leave by the night train for Boston so you will turn me out in good time please. Seven I’d say would suit well. Yours sincerely, Ben Greet.

Let’s just here stop a second, gentle collator. How would you feel to be invited to dine with Henry Folger? What one question would you ask him?

January 1908
When Ben Greet needs to reach Folger urgently, he buys a ten-cent blue “Special Delivery” stamp, added to the regular two-cent letter postage.

Ben Greet’s Special Delivery envelope sent to Henry Folger in Brooklyn (Folger Archives Box 21)

What is on Greet’s mind that requires such urgency?

Ben Greet’s Special Delivery letter to Henry Folger in Brooklyn (Folger Archives Box 21)

502 Fulton St.
Jan. 2 [1908]
Dear Mr. Folger,
Do you think you can stir up a few people to come see us during the rest of the week. It is extraordinary that we should be playing to such bad audiences with such a programme. The Institute people

supported us well in November but the general public don’t seem to come near. The prices are low enough in all conscience. At present I haven’t taken enough to pay the gas bill! I have written to Mr. C. M. [Charles Millard] Pratt and to Mr. H.I. [Harold Irving] Pratt to see if they can do anything. With best wishes for a bright New Year to Mrs. Folger & yourself. Yours sincerely, Ben Greet.

Well! Luckily Ben speaks his mind and makes us aware of the difficulties he’s having in making a commercial go of his theater troupe’s extended American tour. The two Pratt brothers are Folger’s closest friends with resources.

April 1910
And—how exciting—here is another postal card! The penny postal card depicting “framed” McKinley (1843–1901) sent to Mr. H. C. Folger Jr. No need to write out “Broadway,” “B’way” will do. No need to write the city either. Have you ever seen a post(al) card sent from Grand Central Station? Usually they are sent from one government post office to another.

Postal card written to Henry Folger at his work address in Manhattan (Folger Archives Box 11)

Ladies and Gentlemen collators, here is a postal card used for commercial purposes. Greet urges Henry Folger and others to “Please reserve your seats NOW” by calling a four-digit telephone number in Madison Square. A Shakespearean Festival in 1910 would celebrate the 346th Anniversary of Shakespeare’s Birthday. Prices ranged from twenty-five cents to a dollar fifty.

Message and address side of same postcard (Folger Archives Box 11)

March 6, 1914
We have seen before what a business letter looks like from Henry Folger. This March 6, 1914 letter does not include a signature, as it was typed by Alexander Welsh, his personal secretary at Standard Oil Company. The copy I photographed is a carbon copy of the original that would have been signed.

Letter from Henry Folger to Ben Greet (Folger Archives Box 21)

This revealing letter from Folger to Greet makes it clear that the collector has neither time nor means to help at all in the initial stages of an Edwin Booth Memorial Theatre.

1929
King George V knights Ben Greet for four years managing the Old Vic theatre, for his overall devotion to Shakespeare, and for services to “drama and education”.

April 21, 1932
On April 21, 1932, two days before the dedication of the Folger Shakespeare Library, the Ben Greet Players in London wish the Library well and express their gratitude for Mr. Folger’s wonderful gift of the Shakespeare library and theatre to his countrymen.

Western Union cablegram from Sir Ben Greet to Mrs. H. Clay Folger (Folger Archives Box 21)

April 23, 1932
Sir Philip Ben Greet attends dedication of the Folger Shakespeare Library on Capitol Hill, representing the British stage.

1932-1933
The postcard shows Shakespeare’s Birthplace in Stratford-on-Avon. Notice the magenta printing and part of the circle of a postmark. One does not expect to find a postmark or a stamp on the picture side of a postcard.

Defaced postcard from Sir Ben Greet to Mrs. H. Clay Folger (Folger Archives Box 26)

Before I was a deltiologist (someone who collects and studies postcards), I was a philatelist (postage stamp collector). With collational witnesses, I admit that a few times (not too many) I was guilty of the transgression of making two tears—one vertical and one horizontal—to deface a postcard in order to add the stamp to my collection. I was punished for my offence: when I was a freshman at Amherst College my parents’ house was broken into and all the stamp albums stolen. I never again collected postage stamps—which when I was growing up was touted as the world’s most popular hobby—but in a mid-life crisis I began postcard collecting in 1980. With a postcard you can get four prizes: a stamp, a postmark, a picture, and a message. Whose fingerprints are on this defiled postcard besides mine? Who did the deed? It is true that in the Folger family there was a philatelist. I found out who it was: Judge Edward J. Dimock, Emily’s nephew. There are dozens of envelopes in the Folger correspondence where the stamp has been snitched. The judge is definitely a person of interest.

Message on defaced postcard from Sir Ben Greet to Mrs. H. Clay Folger (Folger Archives Box 26)

Sir Ben Greet writes to Mrs. H. Clay Folger, Glen Cove, Long Island, USA. No street address, no state. But the mail goes through. The “due 2 cents” is a phrase that philatelists are familiar with. When the correspondent puts insufficient postage on an envelope or postcard, postal authorities have the option of sending it back for more postage or sending it on to collect the required additional fare on the receiving end. In this case, Mrs. Folger (or whomever took the mail delivery) may well have had to reach into their purse or pocket and produce the two Lincoln pennies to make the postman’s accounts for the day add up.

After Henry Folger died in June 1932, Emily evidently sent word to Greet, for she received the following letter in reply:

Sir Ben Greet letter to Mrs. Folger July 12, 1932 (Folger Archives Box 26)

My dear Mrs. Folger
It is exceedingly kind of you to send me the lovely letter book and record of Henry Clay Folger. I have never forgotten the kind interest you two took in me and how little I felt I deserved it for I was never able to realise all I had hoped to do for our Shakespeare in America—
I really toiled there for twelve years unaided except such kind encouragement I had from a few good souls such as H. C. Folgers

and after fifteen years absence I returned in October 1929 for twenty weeks again in 1930 and God willing I am going to try a third time. Fortunately an old frien[d] that I came across in the early days is guiding me and I have been able to play to over one million people in every part of the United States—I am to return this October. They do love Shakespeare there the young people do and that is the story. Dr. Parkes Cadman [the Folgers’ British-born Congregational pastor in Brooklyn] was right when he said so beautifully that Shakespeare was there to lead your good man and thank God for Henry Clay Folger.
I am yours sincerely Philip Ben Greet

Here is a remarkably clear photograph of Sir Ben Greet at his desk, where he has written upside down the Shakespearean quote, “I could a tale unfold” (Hamlet 1.5). He is seated in a three-piece suit, writing at his desk.

Picture postcard of Sir Ben Greet writing at his desk (Folger Archives Box 26)

It contains what may be the final correspondence between Greet and Emily Folger:

Message and Address side of same postcard (Folger Archives Box 26)

To Mrs Henry Clay Folger with kindest thoughts—??? the book finished I shall send a copy to the H. C. Folger Library. It might find a corner. Philip Ben Greet, 160 Lambeth Road, London SE 1.

Greet pays no attention to the postal guidance to write the address on the right side of the postcard. I myself often send a postcard with a full message and place it in an envelope. This is what Greet must have done. I did not find the envelope in Folger Archives Box 26, however. Your Honor, fess up. Has your philatelic obsession taken over?

(This post originally appeared on the Folger Shakespeare Library’s research blog The Collation on January 21, 2020)

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Folgers and Nantucket in an Anniversary Year

by Stephen H. Grant | Sep 15, 2020 | Folger, Nantucket, Shakespeare

Benjamin Franklin’s mother was Abiah Folger Franklin, and his grandfather, Peter Folger.

The first Folgers to immigrate to the New World came from the village of Diss, 20 miles southwest of the town of Norwich, in East Anglia, England. Part of the Great Puritan Migration, they crossed the North Atlantic on the Abigail in 1635 and landed in Boston. Living initially in Dedham and Watertown in the Massachusetts Bay Colony, they settled on Martha’s Vineyard. By “first Folgers” I am referring to the illiterate hog-reeve John Folger (1593?–1660) and his son, the “pious and learned Englishman,” Peter Folger (1617–1690). The colorful and talented Peter Folger married an indentured maid he had met on the crossing, Mary Morrell. Peter moved his family of eight children to Nantucket in 1663. Their last child, Abiah, was born on Nantucket. Abiah married a soapmaker from Boston named Josiah Franklin and they had a child named Benjamin.

Folgers have lived on Nantucket ever since. Many left their mark. Whaling captain Timothy Folger gave his first cousin Benjamin Franklin his early chart of the Gulf Stream. Walter Folger Jr. was a member of the U.S. House of Representatives from Massachusetts. James A. Folger founded Folgers Coffee. A Civil War Honor Roll on four sides of obelisk not far from the Peter Whaling Museum in Nantucket records these casualties: James Folger, Charles C. Folger, Edward P. Folger, and Henry Folger. Henry Clay Folger and his wife Emily assembled the largest collection of Shakespeare in the world and built a marble monument to house it two blocks from the U.S. Capitol. Henry Folger wrote, “Had I not collected Shakespeariana, I would have collected Frankliniana.”

Painted from a photograph, this portrait of Frederick Douglass hangs in the Nantucket Atheneum Great Hall. Douglass was the most photographed person in America of his day.

To mark the 400th anniversary of Peter Folger’s birth in 1617 and the 350th anniversary of Abiah Folger Franklin’s birth in 1667, the Nantucket Atheneum (the island’s public library) invited me to lecture on the Folger family, concentrating on the founder of the Folger Shakespeare Library, Henry Clay Folger. Anyone asked to step up to the Atheneum podium cannot escape the gaze of Frederick Douglass from a portrait on the nearby wall. No fewer than five times––in 1841, 1842, 1843, 1850, and 1885–– from that podium Douglass described to rapt audiences his life in slavery and argued for emancipation.

Five Folgers were in the Atheneum audience to hear about their ancestors and appreciate the contribution of Henry Clay Folger and his wife Emily in creating the Folger Shakespeare Library.

I was not alone on the Atheneum stage. Right behind me all the time––almost looking over my shoulder––was an honor guard in the form of a ship prow figurehead of British origin. The young blond girl in the picture is a Folger and bears the name, Abiah, pointing to the name Abiah on the Abiah Folger-Franklin bronze tablet. Abiah’s grandfather, Dr. Gordon M. Folger Jr., the patriarch of the current clan, sat in the front row with his family. His father owned the Sea Cliff Hotel and Old Point Breeze Hotel on the island. Folger names are all over Nantucket: Folger Avenue, Folgers Lane, Folger Road, Folgers Court, Folger Hill, Folgers Marsh, Folger’s Creek.

Lecturer speaking next to an honor guard: a prow figurehead of British origin.

The last Folger family reunion was held on the island in 1959, during a tricentennial celebration of the first island deed in 1659. The reunion of August 26–28, 1959 brought together 123 Folgers. The highlight was the dedication of Folger-Franklin seat and memorial boulder on Peter Folger’s homesite on the Madaket road on the western side of the island. Five homes were open for inspection. A group photo was taken at the old Folger homestead on 153 Main St.

Seventeen Folger families gathered on Nantucket in 1959 to celebrate the tricentennial of the island’s land deed.

(This post originally appeared on Johns Hopkins University Press Blog on September 28, 2017)

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No Standard Oil Company? No Shakespeare Collection!

by Stephen H. Grant | Sep 7, 2020 | Books, Collecting, Folger, Shakespeare

“Stephen, thanks for this fascinating research. The images are particularly evocative of that time and place. As you well know, John D. Rockefeller sent missions to potential acquisitions or partners from the very beginning of Standard Oil, so it’s not surprising that practice continued under Henry Folger and his cohort. You were entirely right to expand the scope of your book past the Folgers as collectors so we could learn about their lives in full.”

Eric Johnson

Standard Oil Co. of New York delivery wagon, c1900
Author’s collection, photo by Stephen Grant

A decade ago when I was determining angles to consider in approaching Collecting Shakespeare: The Story of Henry and Emily Folger, some readers—perhaps at 3 pm Folger tea—recommended I write only on the Folgers as collectors. As I was writing the very first biography of the couple, I finally decided it made little sense to focus on how they spent their money at the neglect of how they earned it in the first place. Had Henry followed his strongest suit and become a math teacher, there goes the Shakespeare Library out the window. So here we go with some info about key Standard Oil Company personnel.

On Dec. 8, 1911, Standard Oil Company founder John D. Rockefeller Sr. resigned the presidency and directorship of the Standard Oil Company of New Jersey, that later became Esso and then Exxon. Yes, he made way for younger men, but he wasn’t going anywhere. John D. Rockefeller would not decide to die until a quarter of a century later, in 1937 when he was almost 98 years old. Three of those younger men were Henry C. Folger (1857–1930), Alfred C. Bedford (1863–1925), and Walter C. Teagle (1878–1962). At the time, Folger was 54 years old, Bedford was 48, and Teagle was a mere 33. These Standard Oil executives were born in three different decades. They all shared the same middle initial; I call them the “Three Cs.”

As for the pedigrees of the Three Cs, try this on for size. With a law degree, Folger in 1911 was president of Standard Oil Company of New York (later Mobil Oil Corporation) and would be its chairman of the board from 1923 to 1928. He was director and treasurer of Standard Oil Company of New Jersey, as well as being on its executive committee. Bedford was a specialist in natural gas who would be promoted from treasurer to president of Standard Oil Company of New Jersey in 1916 and serve as its board chair from 1917 to 1925. Trained as a chemist, Teagle was a specialist in foreign and domestic marketing. He was vice-president of Standard Oil of New Jersey. He would serve as president of Standard Oil Company of New Jersey from 1917 to 1937, then board chair until 1942. Teagle was six foot three, weighed 250 lbs., and smoked a Havana cigar through an amber holder. He was known for his booming voice and unblinking stare.

Before making large investments, Standard Oil Company systematically dispatched a team led by top headquarters executives for an intensive inspection of its assets, in particular its refineries. What do I know about the two business trips in 1910 to Kentucky, Nebraska, Wyoming, Nevada, Colorado, and California? Nothing except what we can glean from picture postcards. I did not find them in the Standard Oil Company archives in Austin, TX that I scoured. I found them in the Folger Archives. Have these deltiological objects been languishing in the Folger underground vault for four score and seven years waiting to be discovered to further illuminate the life of Henry Clay Folger?

There would have been no reason for widowed Emily Folger and her advisor, Henry’s nephew, Owen Fithian Smith, to send Standard Oil Company files to a Shakespeare library in Washington, D.C. Consequently, they sent ten boxes of books and business papers to New York in 1932, as attested by a letter from Richard P. Tinsley, treasurer of Standard Oil Company of New York on June 20, 1932 (Folger Archives Box 27). Mrs. Folger had written on the cover envelope “Dick’s bus. Books”. A trip report of the western refinery visits in 1910 might well have been among the documents in those boxes. When I queried the Standard Oil Company archivists at the Dolph Briscoe Center for American History at the University of Texas at Austin, they wrote back that surely the ten cases from Henry’s office would have been mixed in with the other company archives. ExxonMobil archives at the Center today include some 4 million documents.

And, why did Emily call Henry “Dick”? While a senior at Amherst College, Henry Folger sang the role of Dick Deadeye in Gilbert & Sullivan’s HMS Pinafore. While the couple had not yet met in 1879, Emily so cherished the idea of her husband singing in an operetta that she, when writing, often referred to him as Dick. Folger had a rich, basso profundo voice. He sang in the college glee club and in his fraternity quartet.

Fig. 1 Standard Oil Company delegation on inspection tour of western oil refineries

Okay, now who can spot Folger among the ten behatted men? The overcoats—and two pairs of gloves—betray the easterners, dressed to the nines with their oxfords and detachable high linen collars. The man in a black bowler wears a watch chain. The company gent on the far right appears to be the detail man, having brought from New York what may be reams of cost/yield statistics of company refineries. My money is on the gentleman on the far left as being a local refinery employee, with coarser hat, vest, jacket, and trousers. Six out of ten look at the photographer. Henry Folger wears a bowtie, a golf cap, and displays a graying beard. At about this time Folger was described in the press as “a lean, delicate, thin-bearded man.” Colleagues called him “a quite distant sort of person” (Briscoe Center for American History at UTexas Austin, H. C. Folger, Employee Relations folder).

Fig. 2 Henry Folger with Walter Teagle during inspection tour of western oil refineries

We know from Henry’s scrapbook (Folger Archives box 29) that as a freshman at Amherst he measured five feet four and weighed 110 lbs. Since the man with a cigarillo hanging from his lips towers above Folger, there’s a good chance it’s Walter Teagle at six feet three. In Fig. 1, he’s plunked himself down center stage in the bottom row. For Fig. 2, he’s taken off his overcoat. Although Folger and Teagle are standing right next to each other, there is no interaction between them, and they look in two different directions.

Emily wrote after her husband’s death, “Not an exuberant personality, Henry always was reticent and possibly shy by nature” (Folger Archives Box 37). Folger and Teagle represented polar opposites in size as well as personality. Where is Bedford? Dunno. I printed out photos of A. C. Bedford from Google images and tried to compare. Nothing clearly matched. I emailed the ExxonMobil archivists in Austin to ask if they could identify members of the delegation. They replied that I could hire a researcher by the hour.

What I do have, however, may be more important. I have salary figures for the Three Cs.

In 1922, Folger’s last year as president of Standard Oil Company of New York before assuming the role of board chair, Folger’s salary was $100,000 (Folger Archives Box 41). In the same year, Bedford and Teagle each earned $125,000 (Folger Archives Box 41). In 2018 dollars $100,000 is $1.5 million and $125,000 is just shy of $2 million. The Three Cs were wealthy, but small change compared to the Charles Pratt fortune, which, in turn, was small compared to the Rockefeller fortune.

Fig. 3 Henry Folger standing in the caboose during Standard Oil Company delegation on inspection tour of western oil refineries

From the previous photograph of Folger, we now learn that he brought at least two hats on the trip out west. Folger had earned the reputation of being somewhat of a loner at Standard Oil. For lunch he eschewed the executive dining room at 26 Broadway, preferring to munch on an apple and feed pigeons in the park. I am not surprised to catch him in a solitary mood looking out over the guard rail. Could he be ruminating over his last laconic postcard message to Emily? Contemplating what message to send home on his next postcard? Look at the fancy oval glass on the two matching windows looking out on the tracks from the caboose. This is no ordinary railroad car. Standard Oil Company most likely commissioned the cushiest of special railway cars for its senior executives.

Have any of you collators been wondering to whom these postcards were sent? With what postage stamps were they festooned, and what messages were penned to whom? Do you frankly admit enjoying the opportunity I am giving you to read other people’s mail? Sorry, these black-and-white postcards were never written on or sent through the mail. All the backs are the same. Take a look.

Fig. 4 Message and address side of same postcard

Did you notice the word VELOX? It’s printed four times along with the “place stamp here” directive in what is called the “stamp box.” VELOX is code wording for what is called in the trade a “Real Photo Postcard” (abbreviation RPPC). This type of postcard comes from developing a negative onto photo paper with a pre-printed postcard backing. It has been used for small printing runs since 1900. Some deltiologists collect only this form of postcard. In this case, the resolution is not of high quality. Real post cards may well be the work of amateur photographers. Sometimes it may be an absolutely unique card.

In August of 1932, in consultation with her nephew Edward Dimock, Emily Folger took steps to have a biography written about her late husband. For author, she decided on James Waldo Fawcett, a well-known journalist in Washington, D.C. with the Evening Star. Through the spring of 1933 Mrs. Folger met off and on with Fawcett to discuss elements that might make up the volume. Fawcett contacted many colleagues at Standard Oil, asking for written recollections. One idea was to produce a letter-book to be placed in the Founders’ Room. Alas, the biography came to naught, but some of the recollections survived.

Fawcett collected an impressive array of recollections from dozens of friends and colleagues (Folger Archives Box 32). Among the most poignant is that of Walter Teagle, who was able to study his polar opposite Folger when the collector did not know he was being observed:

“His position in the business world would have perpetuated the name of Henry Clay Folger. Although he was not the aggressive type that impresses itself on the public consciousness, he applied himself assiduously to his duties and was a real force in his company’s policies. I was closely associated with him from 1906 until the dissolution of the Standard Oil Company in 1911. Mr. Folger will be remembered for his avocation. Many men have hobbies at which they are moderately good. Mr. Folger was more than that. He made himself the recognized authority on the world’s greatest writer. After the parting of our business paths, a window from my office commanded a courtyard on the other side of which he had his desk. Time and again I have looked out to see him in a small anteroom handling with loving care some precious Shakespeareana. He was like a boy playing hookey from the petroleum business for a few minutes to indulge his passion for his collection. This disposition of this accumulation of a lifetime of loving labor was a generous gesture, throwing open to all students the priceless treasures which he so much had pleasure in collecting.”

Fig. 5 Teagle’s letter of remembrance about Henry Folger

(This post originally appeared on the Folger Shakespeare Library’s research blog The Collation December 10, 2019)

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Postcards in the Folger Archives: The 1879 Hyde Prize in Oratory at Amherst College

by Stephen H. Grant | Aug 29, 2020 | Books, Collecting, Deltiology, Folger, Postcards, Shakespeare

“I’m a longtime fan of both the literary treasures within the Folger, and its stunning Greco Deco exterior architecture. A friend alerted me to Stephen Grant’s scholarly yet utterly charming tale of Henry Folger and this history of post(al) cards, as well as the declining art of collegiate oratory. What a treat.”

Annie Groer

My first descent into the underground vault took place in 2007 during a short-term Folger fellowship. Since a Summer Retrospective is the order of the day with The Collation, I should like to acknowledge the Feb. 16, 2012 post honoring fellowship administrator, Carol Brobeck. With a tape measure stuffed into a side pocket, I trailed Betsy Walsh, head of reader services, as she led me to yards of shelving supporting dozens of gray archival boxes 10 x 13 x 4” laid out horizontally that formed the Folger Collection she called “Folger Coll.” The Sept. 26, 2017 Collation post is a tribute to Betsy. “What had I signed up for?” I wanted to learn. You see, while the other 39 fellows that year came to consult the collecTION, I would do that but concentrate on the collecTORS. We tallied 25 linear feet. I found the figure staggering, but good to know. My fellowship evaluation sheet submitted to Carol on Bastille Day 2008 was entitled, “Initial research for a biography of Henry and Emily Folger.”

Johns Hopkins Press released Collecting Shakespeare: The Story of Henry and Emily Folger on the Ides of March 2014. The first biography of the founders appeared four score and two years after the Folger Shakespeare Library was dedicated on Shakespeare’s 368th birthday in 1932.

Prior to becoming a biographer I was a deltiologist. Collins Dictionary defines deltiology as the collection and study of picture postcards. Before I authored two biographies I wrote three books on vintage postcards of Guinea in West Africa, Indonesia in South Asia, and El Salvador in Central America, published in those countries.

My posts for The Collation will center on postcards in the Folger Archives boxes. For this initial post, we will scrutinize together the earliest-dated postcard.

1873 Liberty postal card sent from Amherst, MA on July 1, 1879 to Mrs. H. C. Folger Jr. in Brooklyn, NY. Folger Archives Box 29, photo by Stephen Grant.

Truth be told, it is not a Post Card. It’s clearly labeled at the top center, “U.S. Postal Card.” There’s a difference. A postal card has postage imprinted on the card by a postal authority before it is sold in a post office. The postal value is part of the printed design. The “U.S. postage one cent” value is embodied in the first female to grace a U.S. postage stamp. She is referred to as “Liberty.” The color of the stamp is black. The head is in profile looking left. On the stamp is written “U.S. POSTAGE ONE CENT.” A stern imperative: “WRITE THE ADDRESS ON THIS SIDE – THE MESSAGE ON THE OTHER. How different from picture postcards today where you have address and message on the same side.

When Henry Folger was in college, the U.S. postal system was in its infancy. The first U.S. postage stamp was issued in 1847. The first postal card in 1873, when President U. S. Grant (no relation) after much hesitation approved the measure. For me, a collector, feasting my eyes on a first-generation postal card in the Folger collection is a huge thrill.

Let’s direct our attention to the postmark, “Amherst Mass Jul 1.” In 1879 the dummies in the Amherst post office on North Pleasant St. do not yet have a rubber stamp that includes the hour of mailing OR the year. How unhelpful!

The card is addressed to Mrs. H. C. Folger Jr. at 72 Quincy St. in Brooklyn. That address is expected because it’s where Henry’s parents live. I have stood in front of 72 Quincy. In 2009 I took me a local guide and walked around his Brooklyn neighborhoods; and where his parents lived, and Emily Jordan, his wife-to-be.

Renovated modest two-story free-standing 72 Quincy St., Brooklyn, NY, 2009. Photo by Stephen Grant.

Now let’s turn the card over.

Handwritten message and signature on 1873 postal card received in Brooklyn on July 2, 1879. Folger Archives Box 29, photo by Stephen Grant.

Luckily, postal clerks in Brooklyn have their act together, putting to shame their Amherst counterparts. The postmark reads “Jul 2 79,” so we have the year. Do we really believe the clerks were burning the midnight oil with a hand cancel at “1 AM?”

Very few postcard messages are as laconic as two words. Henry’s message “Hyde Prize,” however, could not have been richer in significance. I need to give you collators some context. The Hyde Prize for Oratory was named for Henry D. Hyde, Amherst class of 1861. A prominent Boston lawyer and long-time trustee of the college, he established the Prize in 1870. It was discontinued in 1931, and now few people have heard of it. Oratory prizes were hugely important on college campuses in the late 19th century.

A Hyde page from Henry Folger’s college scrapbook. Folger Archives Box 29, photo by Stephen Grant.

Mon., June 30, 1879 was the big day for the Hyde competition. Henry’s college scrapbook devotes an exorbitant amount of lines to the event. The Prize merited a special exhibit and brought out the college orchestra. Tickets were printed with seat assignments; Henry’s was Sect. D. No. 62. Does this ticket remind anyone of another ticket? Three months before, Henry had bought a similar ticket to hear Ralph Waldo Emerson deliver his last address at Amherst. For this event that so marked Henry, he sat in Sec. A, No. 33 in the same College Hall.

On June 25, Henry had written to his mother, “There are just two fellows in the class who have two orations and Folger is one of them. However it is more chance than merit. If I should take the Hyde for which there is just about one chance in six, it would be the best thing that I have done in my college course” (Folger Archives Box 21). The “best thing”; Folger doesn’t use superlatives lightly.

Names of orators and their subjects in Hyde Prize program of 1879. Folger Archives Box 29, photo by Stephen Grant.

How did Folger calculate that his chances of success would be one out of six? We know that he often thought in mathematical terms. The program gives the names of the six orators, the towns they come from, the subject they will address, and when the musical interludes will take place. Candidate Franklin Jameson stands out to me. As first in his class (by contrast, Folger ranked fifth), Jameson was valedictorian. His career included being director of the department of historical research at the Carnegie Institution in Washington, DC, and chief of the manuscripts division at the Library of Congress. Perhaps more than anyone else, Jameson convinced Folger to drop the other sites he was considering and build his Shakespeare library in the nation’s capital.

In Folger’s day an important portion of the curriculum was devoted to declamation. The Free Dictionary defines declamation as “a speech from memory with studied gestures and intonation as an exercise in elocution or rhetoric.” How did Folger fare in his declamation classes? His transcript gives us semester grades: freshman 100, 98; sophomore 98, 98; junior 100, 100; senior 100, 100 (Folger Archives Box 21). With that stellar academic record, who on earth could have been surprised when Henry nailed the Hyde? Folger won with his oration on Tennyson and took home $100, a sum which would have paid for a full year’s tuition. He paid out the first $10 to buy copies of the Hyde program. How many? Eight hundred! What he did with them I know not; likely he shared widely with acquaintances the pride of accomplishment. Henry did not win every prize at Amherst; he lost the Shakespeare competition of all things. Emily joked that her husband became a Bard devotee out of pique.

Astounding Folger purchase when he graduates. Folger Archives Box 29, photo by Stephen Grant.

We can imagine how satisfied Henry would be getting on the train to return to the family in Brooklyn in early July. But wait just a minute! On his postal home, Henry is in Amherst writing to his mother in Brooklyn, right? But she isn’t Mrs. H. C. Folger Jr.; she’s Mrs. H. C. Folger Sr. In 1879 there IS no Mrs. H. C. Folger Jr. The 22-year-old student is Henry Folger Jr. His father is Henry Folger or Henry Folger Sr. as I often call him in my biography. Henry Folger Jr. won’t marry until 1885. He hasn’t even met Emily yet. “Our” Henry goes by the name of Henry Folger Jr. or H. C. Folger Jr. until his father dies. From Jan. 21, 1914 onward, he drops the Jr.

Both sides of the card are indubitably in Henry’s handwriting. My reading of it is that by adding the “Mrs.,” Henry is having some fun! Think of the celebration in the Folger household when the eldest child returns to his parents, his brothers and sister, with a B.A. degree. What a model he is for his siblings! Neither Folger parent had been to college. Henry is adding levity to the occasion. Who in the family was the first one to catch it, I wonder? Not very much appears in the Folger story regarding Henry’s sense of humor. Can one imagine the Folgers guffawing as they pass this postal card around the dinner table? Perhaps not. Henry’s humor is on the understated side.

How else could one explain the Mrs. H. C. F. Jr.? He was pooped and couldn’t think straight? Some evidence does exist. On June 29, Henry writes his Mom, “If I am very tired will wait here till Saturday and so may not reach Brooklyn until sometime Sunday” (Folger Archives Box 21). We’ll never know.

Postally unused 1913 Jefferson postal card. Folger Archives Box 26, photo by Stephen Grant.

Fellow collators, don’t think of postal cards as antediluvian artifacts. Why, I had a stack of this 1913 postal in my desk drawer in 1950. It’s the proverbial “penny postcard.” Received them. Sent them. In 1952 I had to lick and affix a one-cent stamp to the card because the postage rate had gone up. The color of the stamp is green. The Jefferson head is in profile looking left. On the stamp “U.S. POSTAL CARD ONE CENT JEFFERSON” has replaced “U.S. POSTAGE ONE CENT.” In the later card the European design flourishes have disappeared. It is less artsy. It is stark; time is money. The message “THIS SIDE OF CARD IS FOR ADDRESS” no longer includes the imperative “WRITE.” The Jefferson-head postal card was issued in 1913. It took four decades before the U. S. postal authorities deemed that a correspondent could figure out where to write the message without being told.

Typewritten message on other side of postally unused 1913 Jefferson postal card, 1933. Folger Archives Box 26, photo by Stephen Grant.

A lot of technological advances occurred between 1879 and 1913 when this postal card was issued. We had the invention of the typewriter. The use of this postal card with typewritten message is commercial. Frances M. Leich had a concession stand in the Hotel Continental on North Capitol St. with an unobstructed view of the Capitol. This is Washington, DC not only before zip codes, but you asked a telephone operator for a party’s number by giving two letters followed by four digits: NA 1672. Leich was the first merchant to sell picture postcards of the Folger Shakespeare Library, both exterior and interior views. The vendor curiously calls the marble bas relief sculptures on the north façade “medalions.”

When my family of four drove from New England to Washington DC in 1951, we stayed in the Hotel Continental. I had a little pocket money, and spent some of it to buy a picture postcard of the hotel at that very concession stand. I kept it in a former box of chocolates until 2012 when I gave it to my grandnephew to begin his postcard collection.

(This post originally appeared on the Folger Shakespeare Library’s research blog The Collation on Aug. 1, 2019)

COMMENTS:

Gail Kern Paster
This is delightful stuff about our founders that only you could write–given your twin expertise here in the Folgers’ lives and the history of postcards.
Annie Groer
I’m a longtime fan of both the literary treasures within the Folger, and its stunning Greco Deco exterior architecture. A friend alerted me to Stephen Grant’s scholarly yet utterly charming tale of Henry Folger and this history of post(al) cards, as well as the declining art of collegiate oratory. What a treat. Many thanks for this special Collation.
Thomas Edwin Woodhouse
You make the history of the postal card almost as interesting and entertaining as is your story of the Folgers. Deltiologist indeed!
Robin Swope
A wonderful, charming story about Mr. Folger from his days at Amherst. The pictures at the Folger show a rather solemn looking man who was all business. Your post gives us a different, much more personal insight into Mr. Folger. We rightly focus on the work he and Mrs. Folger did to put together an amazing collection and build the Library, but the two of them as individuals sometimes get lost. As a docent at the Folger it is always so nice to have stories to share with our visitors. This post will be added to the stories I share. Our visitors thank you!
Werner Gundersheimer
Stephen Grant has explicated one of the enduring mysteries — the subtle variation between post cards and postals. One had assumed that this was a distinction without a difference, but no! Suddenly, a grandmother’s words make sense: “Send me a postal” didn’t necessarily mean a post card at all. Folger’s card to his Mom conforms to the minimalist requirements of reportage to parents. “Hyde Prize” says it all. A taciturn fellow, but not without a sense of accomplishment, and perhaps a touch of ego. And what about those 800 copies? HCF won the prize in his senior year, and was about to leave the Amherst community. That he shelled out ten precious bucks for all those useless “programmes” poses another enduring mystery, this one perhaps insoluble.

A strong candidate for the most beautiful Amherst College postcard ever is the 1912 image of the inauguration of President Alexander Meiklejohn, the most distinguished educator to hold that office. The card, in full color, shows the robed faculty in procession across the quadrangle. Like most of the American souvenirs of the period, it was made in Germany, a practice that ended soon thereafter, for obvious reasons. Might Folger been there that day? What about it, Stephen?

Stephen Grant
In lieu of a positive answer, Werner, this exchange between the two men:

Ltr 6/2/14
Dear Mr. Folger
I am very glad to know that you can be with us on Commencement day and that you will present yourself to receive the degree [honorary degree of Litt.D)] which has been voted by the trustees. Ever since your reply to my remark about the Marsden Perry collection I have been hoping for a chance to say something to you under circumstances which would make a reply impossible. I think my opportunity has come. With kindest regards, Alexander Meiklejohn

Ltr 2/5/15
Dear President Meiklejohn,
Mrs. Folger and I wish to extend to you and Mrs. Meiklejohn our sincere sympathy for you in the loss of your father. I notice by the newspaper reports that he was of the same age as my own father, who died a year ago. I was about sending you a letter when I saw the notice of your father’s death, to ask you and Mrs. Meiklejohn whether you could arrange to spend a night with us in Brooklyn the latter part of April and attend the Opera with us. . . Henry C. Folger
Debby Applegate
I cannot claim so lofty a title as deltiologist, but I am a proud lifelong deltiophile – just learned that word, thanks for that! – I love this new column of yours. An excellent combination of antiquarian expertise and gossipy historian, my favorite combination as it happens. I like the warm tone & sharp touches of humor although, my dear Steve, oughtn’t we be a bit more complimentary toward those hardworking postal-workers who make it all possible? Maybe the village postmaster in frugal Amherst couldn’t afford a rubber stamp!

Stephen Grant
Fair point.

Rhea DeStefano
Wonderful read on the history of postcards. Certainly a rarity to receive one nowadays.
Kevin Mei, Folger Fellow Jan ’16
Thanks for sharing! I enjoyed reading this. It’s amazing to see how much can be learned from postcards and liked learning about the Hyde Prize. I wish oration and declamation were still formally prioritized. And always fun to hear that $100 could’ve paid full tuition college for a year.

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Emily Dickinson, William Shakespeare, and the Henry Folgers

by Stephen H. Grant | Aug 10, 2020 | Amherst, Books, Folger, Poetry, Shakespeare

Emily Dickinson, Daguerreotype ca. 1847, Amherst College Archives & Special Collections

In 1874, Emily Dickinson wrote the poem:

Dear March – Come in –

How Glad I am –

I hoped for you before –

Put down your Hat –

You must have walked –

How out of Breath you are –

Dear March, how are you, and the Rest –

Did you leave Nature well –

Oh March, Come right upstairs with me –

I have so much to tell –

The following year, Henry Clay Folger of Brooklyn entered Amherst College in as a freshman.

Emily Dickinson and Henry Folger lived three blocks away from each other in Amherst, Massachusetts, for four years. There is every reason to believe they never met. Henry was studious on campus; Emily was reclusive at home.

Emily’s older brother, the treasurer of Amherst College, sent this note to Henry in 1876: “Your Term Bill for the present Term remaining unsettled, your attention is called to the Rule of the College in reference to same. Wm. A. Dickinson.” Folger was having difficulty paying his tuition bills. His businessman father was suffering from the Panic of 1873. Only through the generosity of Charles Pratt, the father of Henry’s roommate, was Folger able to graduate (Phi Beta Kappa) in 1879.

One week after graduation, Folger joined the Standard Oil Company in New York as a clerk working for the same Charles Pratt. Fifty years later, Henry stepped down as CEO of Standard Oil. What did Folger do with the fortune he earned as John D. Rockefeller’s trusted lieutenant? With his wife Emily Jordan Folger, who had earned an M.A. in Shakespeare studies at Vassar, he acquired the largest collection of Shakespeare-related items in the world.

Folger contracted with French-born architect Paul Philippe Cret to design and build a marble monument to the Bard within sight of the U.S. Capitol: the Folger Shakespeare Library. The Folgers selected scenes from nine Shakespeare plays to adorn the exterior. Whereas in classical architecture carved bas-relief scenes were generally placed above pillars on the triangular pediment of a stately building, in the neo-classical edifice that Cret designed, the Folgers asked that the scenes be placed at convenient eye-level for passing pedestrians.

Postcard from Author’s Collection c1933, photo by Stephen Grant

In John Gregory’s sculpture illustrating Julius Caesar, Caesar has fallen and is dying. Brutus still has the knife in his hand. “Beware the ides of March,” a soothsayer warned the Emperor in Julius Caesar, Act I, Scene 2, as Caesar was going to the Roman Senate. Caesar replied, “He is a dreamer. Let us leave him.”

Collecting Shakespeare: The Story of Henry and Emily Folger is being released by Johns Hopkins University Press on March 15, 2014. As the author of the first biography of the founders of the Folger Shakespeare Library in eighty-two years, I have so much to tell—the atmosphere is one of fulfillment of a dream, rather than one of foreboding, on these Ides of March 2014.

(This post originally appeared on the Johns Hopkins University Press Blog on March 12, 2014)

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Interviewing President Senghor

by Stephen H. Grant | Jul 16, 2020 | Essay, French, Interview, Senegal, West Africa

In my writing career, I’ve had the opportunity to write articles based on interviews with two African heads of state:

—President Sangoulé Lamizana of Upper Volta, Africa Report, May-June 1973, pp. 29–33. (Note: Upper Volta changed its name to Burkina Faso in 1984.) The 1973 Lamizana interview took place in the presidential office at the principal military camp in the capital, Ouagadougou when he was head of state. No photography was allowed. The air conditioning was not working, and the president was dressed informally.

—President Senghor of Senegal, Africa Report, Nov.-Dec. 1983, pp. 61–64.

I had first learned about President Léopold Sédar Senghor of Senegal in 1963 by way of a course in Modern French Poetry at Smith College with Visiting Professor Jean Paris. What attracted me about Senghor was the fact that he was a “Poet-President.” He was first a published poet before being elected the first president of Senegal in 1960. When he stepped down in 1980, his prime minister, Abdou Diouf, took over. Senghor was also a scholar, having earned a doctorate in French Grammar in France, and he taught in France.

In 1964 I trained at Oberlin College for a Peace Corps assignment in West Africa. I lectured to my peers on Francophone literature, including several Senghor poems. I wrote essays in the Peace Corps journal En Principe about Senghor’s poetry.

In 1969 I took a Media Course while studying for my master’s degree at the University of Massachusetts’ School of Education. I put together a multi-media presentation of Senghor’s famous poem, “New-York.” Sam Ajiri, a graduate student from Enugu, Nigeria, volunteered to read the poem in English in his deep, sonorous voice. Another grad student in education, my neighbor, an African-American artist named JoeSam, joined him on stage playing Zambian drums. I manned slide projectors, one showing black-and-white photos of New York on one screen and on the other color photos of Africa. Senghor indicates in his books of poetry the instruments he likes to accompany his poems.

In 1972, President Senghor traveled to Ivory Coast to visit Ivorian president Felix Houphouet-Boigny and to meet with the Senegalese community. I took a picture of President Senghor standing in the back of a presidential vehicle in the second city, Bouaké. This is the earliest photo to accompany this essay.

In 1982 I was working in Abidjan, Ivory Coast as Human Resources Development officer in the regional USAID office called REDSO, or the Regional Economic Development Services Office. I was called to consult with nearby USAID offices: Dakar, Senegal; Banjul, the Gambia, Conakry, Guinea, and Praia, Cape Verde Is. Long an admirer, I decided I would write to President Senghor to attempt to obtain an interview. I knew the president of the New-York-based African-American Institute, Don Easum. I wrote him and asked that if I wrote an article based on an interview with Senghor would Africa Report publish it? He encouraged me. I wrote Senghor out of the blue, and was quite surprised when he responded on Aug. 3, 1982 from Normandy, where he was vacationing with his (French) wife, Colette Senghor. He first excused himself for having delayed his reply. “I spend half my time traveling,” he explained (in French) before continuing, “You should not harbor excessive scruples. Send me a cable two weeks in advance.” That is what I did. The U.S. Embassy in Dakar facilitated the appointment and provided a photographer, the late Papa Diaw. I spotted the president’s avant-garde home (“Les Dents de la Mer” or “The Ocean’s Teeth”) from the air, as the plane prepared to land in Dakar-Yoff airport. My accompanying picture turned out grainy.

My 1983 Quo Vadis calendar fixes the appointment on Wed., June 15 at 11 o’clock AM. As historian and author Cyr Descamps likes to say, “in Senegal you can count on only two things to be on time: the ferry to Gorée and an appointment with President Senghor.” As I look back on it 37 years ago, it was one of the most thrilling encounters––savored over 90 minutes––of my life. Senghor shared an aphorism that has stayed with me since: “if you clearly define a problem, you have half solved it.” Mind you, I knew that President Senghor was comfortable receiving young American diplomats in his home. I had learned that the president was keen on perfecting his English, an attitude that manifested itself in the plum honor bestowed on the CAO (Cultural Affairs officer) at the American Embassy to give him regular English lessons. During our time together the president was totally absorbed answering my questions. There was not one sound that could be heard: no airplanes overhead, no pounding of plantain banana or yams in the courtyard. As I recall, no refreshments were offered. Just intense talk. On top of political and literary fame, for me President Senghor personified wisdom and courtesy.

Actually, if truth be told, the president was slightly distracted during our discussion. The day before, the daily newspaper from Ivory Coast, Fraternité-Matin, had printed a front-page above-the-fold article on Senghor’s having been elected a member of the prestigious Académie française, the French Academy in Paris. I probably could not have brought him a more desired house present. You will notice it in four of the 24 images accompanying this article. The main headline was CACAO (cocoa), but no. 2 was Senghor’s academic honor. There was often a rivalry between the presidents of Senegal and Ivory Coast, both of whom had served as ministers in French cabinets. I am sure that as soon as I was out the door, Senghor sat down to read every word of how his honor was interpreted in the Ivorian press.

When you are a Foreign Service officer and write about a meeting with a head of state (in this case Senghor had stepped down three years before after 20 years as Senegalese president) it is required to obtain diplomatic clearance. I initially wrote to the American Ambassador in my country of assignment, Ivory Coast, Nancy V. Rawls. She replied in an accompanying note that protocol determined that authorization (it was granted) should come from the American Ambassador to Senegal, Charles W. Bray. Ambassador Nancy Rawls in her message refers to a previous article I had written on author and Ivory Coast Minister of Culture, Bernard Dadié (“The Making of a Writer: Bernard Dadié of Ivory Coast,” West Africa, Aug. 22, 1983, pp. 1953–54). I have supplied captions to photos illustrating this story. The final two photos are of the Ambassador’s gravestone and the Poet-President’s tomb.

On Nov. 7, 2006, the Library of Congress welcomed visitors to the African & Middle Eastern Division (AMED) Reading Room to view an exhibit I assembled to commemorate 100 years since the birth of Léopold Sédar Senghor.

President Senghor died on Dec. 20, 2001 in Verson (Normandy), France. Senghor had been born on Oct. 9, 1906 in Joal-Fadiouth, a coastal town in Senegal. In October 2006, the African & Middle Eastern Division of the Library of Congress asked me if I would put together an exhibit to honor President Senghor on the centennial of his birth. I lent 21 items from my personal collection for the exhibit. See “Stephen H. Grant Collection of Literary material Relating to Léopold Sédar Senghor.” I prepared remarks for the opening of the exhibit on Nov. 7, 2006. See “Remarks by Stephen H. Grant at the Opening of an Exhibit at the Library of Congress, Nov. 7, 2006.” Eight illustrations will serve to capture the flavor of the exhibit.

Read the Interview on ” AFRICA REPORT, NOV-DEC, 1983″ Issue

SENGHOR INTERVIEW IMAGE GALLERY

President Senghor of Senegal greets the crowd in Bouaké, Ivory Coast 1972

Flying over President Senghor’s home in Dakar-Fann, Senegal 1983

Calendar shows interview takes place on June 15 at 11 o’clock AM 1983

President Senghor greets me at “Les Dents de la Mer,” his private residence 1983

The first of three chairs I will occupy over the hour-and-a-half visit

The impeccably dressed President does most of the talking

I read my questions while my tape machine records

The photo is of his son Philippe, killed in a motor accident

The office is immaculate, with handsome books, furnishings, and objets d’art

We are about to move to the other side of the desk

The President is willing to inscribe his books I have brought

Anxious to read the newspaper from Abidjan I had brought him

Our first goodby, but we will meet two more times in Cairo

The newspaper cover story was Senghor’s being elected to the French Academy

In signing “Poems” published in 1964, he wants me to remember Africa later on

In signing “Nocturns,” the poet asks me to remember African nights

U.S. Ambassador to Ivory Coast Nancy Rawls endorses the article

Table of Contents for 1983 issue of Africa Report

Speaking of studying and teaching in France, avoiding getting involved in politics

Enemies said joining the French Academy meant he was more French than black

“The United States represents a model of both biological and cultural cross-breeding”

“I have always accorded a higher priority to culture than to politics.”

Gravestone of Ambassador Nancy Rawls in Washington DC 1985

Tomb of President Léopold Sédar Senghor in Dakar 2001

The Library of Congress camera crew filmed the objects that the African & Middle Eastern Division staff had curated.

From L to R: Marame Mbaye, Augusta Dieng, Mary-Jane Deeb, Fatou Kader, Marieta Harper. Deeb was Director of the African & Middle Eastern Division under whom Harper worked. The other three Senegalese ladies had all worked at USAID/Dakar.

From L to R: Augusta Dieng, Fatou Kader, Marame Mbaye from Dakar

Newspapers and magazines from the Senegalese Press

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Collecting During COVID or the Power of a Postcard

by Stephen H. Grant | Jul 10, 2020 | Collecting, Deltiology, Postcards, Talk, Video

Stephen H. Grant joined the Arlington Neighborhood Village (ANV) in 2015. For those that might not be familiar with the organization, reading the Mission Statement is a good place to begin: “Arlington Neighborhood Village strives to enable members to continue living in their own homes and communities as they age—safely, independently, and with an enhanced quality of life—by providing access to support services and social programs.”

During the Covid-19 pandemic, ANV members were encouraged to share ways in which they coped with the restrictions older people were facing. Many agreed that it was an excellent time to discover a new hobby or revert to a tried-and-true hobby. Grant volunteered to share his experience in a hobby that clearly got out of hand as he practiced it over the decades and around the world: Collecting Postcards.

The opportunity to present his experience collecting picture postcards offered itself in the framework of a weekly ANV activity entitled “Coffee & Conversation.” For an hour, with ZOOM communication techniques, on July 1, 2020. Grant displayed on the screen postcards going back to the first years of the 20th century. He related personal anecdotes of how powerful postcards could be in scrutinizing ethnic customs in South Asia, in safeguarding architectural treasures from oblivion in Central America, and in discovering in consular archives symbolic references during African colonization.

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The Stephen H. Grant Postcard Collection Digitization Project

by Stephen H. Grant | Jul 1, 2020 | Collecting, Deltiology, Exhibit, Postcards, Video

The Eliot Elisofon Photographic Archives (EEPA), National Museum of African Art announced The Stephen Grant Postcard Collection Digitization Project, a collaborative cataloguing and digitization project with the Smithsonian’s Digitization Program Office (DPO). This collection is fully accessible to the general public in late 2020 or early 2021.

Collected by donor Stephen Grant, this postcard collection consists of over 7500 historic postcards from Egypt, Côte d’Ivoire, Guinea and Senegal produced during the golden era of postcards, c. 1900 – 1920s. The collection features a range of subjects and provides evidence of early photographic processes and printing techniques that allowed the mass circulation of postcards inside and outside Africa. Many postcards carried stamps and hand-written messages sent to friends and family in Europe and the United States. Bearing the names of African photographers and studios long forgotten, these postcards have become key visual resources in excavating the hidden histories of African photography.

The EEPA Historic Postcard Collection consists of over 20,000 postcards from every country and region of Africa. We continue to build this collection with the support of individual donors like Stephen Grant. If you are interested in donating your old postcards of Africa to the National Museum of African Art, please contact EEPA at elisofonarchives.si.edu. Thank you for your support!

Access to Photographic Archives

Records of the collections of the Eliot Elisofon Photographic Archives are accessible online through the Collections Search Center.

Smithsonian Mass Digitization Projecton on Facebook and Twitter

National Museum of African Art

Eliot Elisofon Photographic Archives

The Stephen Grant Postcard Collection Digitization Project

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Postcards in the Folger Archives: British Sea Captain John Robinson and Henry Folger

by Stephen H. Grant | Jun 23, 2020 | Books, Folger, Postcards, Shakespeare, Travel

“I thoroughly enjoy your Folger updates. I resonate with Uncle Henry and Aunt Emily’s pleasure at long and slow Atlantic sailings. Two years ago I crossed on Wind Star, a motorized sailing ship for 148 passengers nonstop for 15 days. I loved sitting on deck reading and experiencing the sea air and water. “

Henry Folger Cleaveland Jr

“Stephen, this is a wonderful post. It is one of your best! Thank you for sending it.”

Peter M. Folger

Rosy-cheeked and white-bearded poet, painter, and shipmaster John Robinson of Watford, Hertfordshire was a commanding presence on the bridge of the steamship Minnehaha from 1900 until he retired from the American-owned Atlantic Transport Line due to poor eyesight in 1907.

Fig 1. British Sea Captain John Robinson in Magazine Article, 1905 Folger Archives Box 42, photo by Stephen Grant

His seafaring career spanned a half-century, starting as cabin boy at a shilling a month. In his forty-plus years at sea, he never spent more than three consecutive months ashore. When the above picture appeared in Shipping Illustrated on Oct. 14, 1905, Robinson had made 60 round trips on the Minnehaha after bringing her out from Belfast on her maiden voyage.

When the Folgers met him on board, they discovered a commander not only with extensive seamanship and a genial disposition, but a thorough knowledge of Shakespeare. Other illustrious personalities who traveled on the Minnehaha and became close friends with Capt. Robinson were Susan B. Anthony, Albert Pinkham Ryder, and Mark Twain.

“Capt. Robinson, with whom we crossed the ocean many times,” Henry wrote a friend, “said Shakespeare was an admirable and experienced sailor.” Henry continued, “There have been books written to prove he was a Freemason, and the last that I have seen is one by a barber proving Shakespeare was an expert in the sartorial art” (Folger Archives Box 20). A specialist in every trade, a writer for all people.

Fig 2. British Sea Captain John Robinson Photo, 1906 Folger Archives Black Box 6, photo by Stephen Grant

The Minnehaha plied the north Atlantic from New York to Liverpool or London and back. The slow steamer accommodated the Folgers’ desire for a prolonged crossing where, wrapped up in great coats and lounging on deckchairs, they could read, relax, and listen to the surf. They brought along a selection from their 13-volume Routledge “Handy” edition of Shakespeare’s Works.

Fig 3. 13-volume Routledge “Handy” edition of Shakespeare’s Works (PR2754 13a3c Cage). Image from LUNA.

Henry’s favorite play to read on ocean voyages was The Tempest. He wrote in an essay entitled “From Ariel to Caliban”: “It is fragrant with salt spray picked up from wave crests by driving winds. The enchanted isle of Prospero seems to have risen out of the surf’” (Folger Archives Box 30).

The couple looked forward to the Sunday services when stewards made up the choir. The Minnehaha offered spacious suites for 250 first-class passengers. Patrons enjoyed the saloon deck and two promenade decks, while below were crammed automobiles, player pianos, and noisy bovine cargo. After 15 years as one of the most popular single-class ships in Atlantic shipping history, the Minnehaha was converted into a freighter, carrying munitions in WWI. On September 7, 1917, the vessel was torpedoed by a German U-boat and sank.

Correspondence between Capt. Robinson and Henry Folger lasted from 1905 to 1922. July 30, 1909 is the postmarked date of an envelope (top center in Fig. 4, below) from Capt. John Robinson in Watford to Henry Folger at the Berkeley Hotel in Piccadilly West.

Fig 4. Four Picture Postcards, One Envelope John Robinson sent to Henry Folger, 1909 Folger Archives Box 11, photo by Stephen Grant

The Folgers had spent a few days treating the Robinsons to Shakespeare plays at Stratford-on-Avon, and would sail back to New York on July 31. The colored postcards, which now reside in the Folger collection, depict the Watford parish church, the market, and the canal locks.

Watford was in the world news as recently as December 2019 when its five-star Grove Hotel in Chandler’s Cross housed the 29 member leaders and their staffs participating in the NATO 70th anniversary meeting. It was “the biggest pre-planned policing operation England had ever seen.” The canals were closed, as were tow paths and roads. Drones were prohibited from flying. A big change from the bucolic tranquility during Capt. Robinson’s days living in Watford.

This “Real Photo Postcard” shows Capt. John Robinson’s garden at 13 Cassio Road, Watford, Hertfordshire. The sea captain and his daughter with dog are posing with “Shakespeare poppies.”

Fig 5. Picture Postcard John Robinson sent Henry Folger, 1910, and message Folger Archives Box 11, photo by Stephen Grant

“Dear Friends,” Robinson wrote,“I send this so that you may see the poppies from Shakespeare’s garden—which you gave us 6 years ago. They come up each year without planting in a great variety of the most delicate colours. This season some beautiful oriental peonies came up.”

Henry and Emily probably both held in their hands this very schedule #47A of the Atlantic Transport Line issued on Jan. 15, 1910. The folded 3 ½ by 6 ¼ in. document printed in red, white, blue bears two pencil marks as well as stains—Folgers coffee, perhaps?.

Fig 6. Atlantic Transport Line Schedule with stains, 1910 Author’s Collection, photo by Stephen Grant

It was given to me by a Folger grandniece who has since passed away. The July 30 11:30 AM sailing from New York and the Aug. 20 return from Southampton are marked. We read, “Time of passage about 9 days.” The Folgers savored their transatlantic travel and were in no hurry. Here is what Henry wrote Capt. Robinson in May of 1910, “I probably will decide on the ‘Minnetonka,’ as it is hard to think of making the voyage on any other line, especially as changing to another ship would reduce the number of days at sea” (Folger Archives Box 23). The couple booked deck cabin G with private bathroom on the upper promenade deck. For Henry, the offices of the Line were located at 9 Broadway, near his Standard Oil Company tower on 26 Broadway.

Robinson wrote back to Henry, saying that

“I was very pleased to learn that your plans for residing in England had not been altered. It pleased me also to know that you think of crossing in the Minnetonka, she is very similar to the Minnehaha, and is commanded by Captain Cannon, who is a very quiet and a safe captain. I think you will like him. If you think it necessary I shall be very pleased to give you a letter of introduction to Captain Cannon, perhaps you may not think it necessary as you are known in our New York Office to Mr. Ian Thomas and to the Gentlemen in the passenger Department to be patrons of the Line.”

Fig 7. Letter from John Robinson to Henry Folger, 1910 Author’s Collection, photo by Stephen Grant

He went on to note “What an eventful year 1910 has been!” referring to (among other things) the eruption of Mount Etna, the appearance of Halley’s comet, and the deaths of both Mark Twain and King Edward VII. Robinson then quotes from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, Act II, Scene 2: “when beggars die, there are no comets seen, the heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.”

Throughout his career, Robinson drew sketches and made oil paintings of marine scenes. After retirement, he turned to depicting rural settings. He sent his 12 x 18 ½ oil painting of Anne Hathaway’s cottage to the Folgers for Christmas 1912. The oil executive responded, “You may guess how satisfactory the painting is when I tell you that it has been hung over Hayman’s portrait of Quinn as Falstaff, painted from life and used as the basis of the well-known engraving, and at right angles to Sir Joshua Reynolds’s portrait of Garrick” (Folger Archives Box 23). For the Folger biographer that I am, this letter gave me the only description I ever found of paintings the Folgers chose to decorate their walls at 24 Brevoort Place in Brooklyn. I would have wanted to be invited to the Folgers for dinner, and have Henry show me around their home. The Folger deaccessioned Anne Hathaway’s Cottage painting in 1964 (Folgerpedia, Deaccessioned Paintings, D55), but at least we have Henry’s mention of it!

(This post originally appeared on the Folger Shakespeare Library’s research blog The Collation on June 23, 2020)

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Dakar 2005: An Exhibit of Old Postcards of Senegal, and Peter Strickland, American Consul on Gorée Island

by Stephen H. Grant | Jun 15, 2020 | Books, Exhibit, Postcards, Senegal, Strickland, West Africa

Images & Memories (I&M) is a cultural organization founded in 1995 specializing in ancient and present-day iconography in 18 countries––of which 10 lie in sub-Saharan Africa––in these fields: paintings, engravings, drawings, photographs, postcards, postage stamps, posters, signs, and textiles. It supports exhibits, illustrated inventories, reproductions, assistance in transferring images, university or professional research. A network of over 150 members (collectors, iconographers, historians, geographers, teachers, conservators, researchers, technicians, writers, and authors) represent libraries, museums, documentation centers, and other organizations.

Peter-Strickland-US-Consul The present bulletin cover article by Stephen H. Grant is entitled, “Dakar 2005: An Exhibit of Old Postcards of Senegal, and Peter Strickland, American Consul on Gorée Island. ” The essay begins with entries in the exhibit guest book, including, “I was very moved by your exhibit. For me, you are the first artist in the world who exhibited more than 400 images at one time. Even Picasso never did that. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” “It’s always an enormous pleasure to live historic moments through cards so old that we were not alive. We are convinced that these eras which charm us were better than today. We thank you, conservators of history through photography, and hope you will keep it up.”

In 2007, Grant authored the biography, Peter Strickland (1837–1921) was the first American consul to French-speaking Africa , with posting (1883–1905) to Gorée Island in Senegal. A sea captain in the merchant marine from New London, CT he made more than 40 voyages to Africa in the age of sail. Captain and Consul Strickland sent one postcard of note (reproduced on the bulletin cover) to the Assistant Secretary of State in Washington, D.C. On it, he drew a large flag over the American consulate, and a small flag over the office of the French director of the chamber of commerce, a cheeky gesture for a diplomatic guest in a French colony.

Peter Strickland: New London Shipmaster, Boston Merchant, First Consul to Senegal. Washington, DC: New Academia, 2007, 236 pp. An Association for Diplomatic Studies and Training “Diplomats and Diplomacy Book.”

DOWNLOAD Images & Mémoires – Bulletin n°64 – Printemps 2020

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Greetings from Batavia: Postcards from the Dutch East Indies

by Stephen H. Grant | Jun 6, 2020 | Arts, Books, Culture, Deltiology, Exhibit, French, Indonesia, Postcards

Archipel is a journal of interdisciplinary studies on Insulindia (Indonesia, Malaysia, The Philippines, Singapore, Brunei Darussalam, East Timor), established in 1971, with particular attention given to humanities.

Co-authors of Bons Baisers de Batavia (pp 53–85) in Archipel no. 47 journal in 1994 were Marcell Bonneff and Stephen H. Grant. Bonneff was director of research at the French CNRS (National Center for Scientific Research) and a specialist in Javanese literature and civilization. Stephen H. Grant was Director of the Office of Education and Training at USAID (U. S. Agency for International Development) in Jakarta, Indonesia, and a fervent deltiologist, a person who collects and analyses picture postcards.

Together, Bonneff and Grant studied 1,000 picture postcards of the Dutch East Indies between 1899 and 1940 that Grant had acquired in the U.S., France, and Indonesia. They examined the postcard producers. While most were in the Dutch East Indies, others represented Holland, Germany, Belgium, Canada, France, and Japan. As for geographical distribution of the cards, 659 were of Java, 239 of Sumatra, 100 of other islands. In Java, 147 were from Batavia (the name later changed to Jakarta), 82 from Surabaya, 52 from Bandung, 37 from Bogor, 21 from Semarang, down to 9 from Solo. As for the subjects represented in the cards, 469 reflected the colonial world, 264 indigenous society, 151 local culture, and 113 nature. Messages handwritten on the postcards in addition to the subjects of cards themselves say a lot. Correspondents emphasize the long distance from the metropolis. They are proud to point out colonial accomplishments such as agricultural production, a well-run society, or evangelization. The article ends with images of 24 black-and-white postcards, each bearing information concerning serial number, title, producer, size, date, message, and principal characteristics.

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Bons Baisers de Batavia (pp 53–85) in Archipel no. 47 journal in 1994

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The Wichita Postcards Club Newsletter

by Stephen H. Grant | Jun 1, 2020 | Books, Collecting, Deltiology, El Salvador, Exhibit, Postcards

StephenGrant-Wichita-PostcardClub-Nesletter-May2020-1

Book published in the capital Jakarta to commemorate the 50th anniversary of Indonesian independence.

I don’t know about yours, but my mid-life crisis struck me in Africa in 1980. I was visiting my first exhibit of old picture postcards in the National Library of Abidjan, Cote d’Ivoire. I knew Ivory Coast because I had been posted in the coastal West African country as a Peace Corps volunteer. Now I was working as an education officer for the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID).

A collaborative work produced in Conakry, capital of the West African nation Guinea, Guinée française during the colonial period.

I have two Frenchmen to thank for the crisis: François-Edmond Fortier and Philippe David. David produced an inventory of the photographs Fortier took in Francophone West Africa between 1900 and 1912. Contemplating the exhibit, I marveled at the potential richness of every postcard: picture, stamp, cancellation, date, and message.I was hooked on the spot. My interest in postcards grew from that of collector to that of exhibitor, author of books and articles, and subject of radio and TV interviews.

My career as a Foreign Service officer allowed me to discover the distant nations of Cote d’Ivoire, Guinea, Egypt, Indonesia, and El Salvador with multiyear postings. Outside of my diplomatic duties, I was able to have published in Guinea (1991), Indonesia (1995), and El Salvador (1999) three postcard books. I always carried old postcards around with me to show to my interlocutors, most of whom had never heard of postcard collecting.

One day in Bandung on the Indonesian island of Java, I handed my language instructor, Ibu Leila Hasyim, a pack of sepia postcards, thinking she could teach me some new vocabulary as we together examined the vintage photos on them.

Photo shown on left: 1930s postcard of a traditional Minangkabau house with sloping roofs like buffalo horns on the island of Sumatra in Indonesia.

When she got to one, her body stiffened and her hand trembled. She sputtered, “Rumah ini rumah saya” or “This house is my house.” She explained that the traditional house with a thatched palm roof had been replaced by a zinc roof in her day. She had never imagined that a postcard could have been made of her family’s home!

Grant explains picture postcards at his exhibit hosted by the Institut français Léopold Sédar Senghor in Dakar, Senegal

I had bought it at a Paper Show in Hartford, CT in a lot of fifty unsent postcards from the 1930s depicting views of the island of Sumatra produced by the Royal Dutch Packet Company that served passengers between Holland and the Dutch East Indies. I had offered the dealer half the asking price. He hesitated, glancing over to the snack bar in the corner of the large salesroom, before concluding, “Ya, I guess so. The wife’s still over there eating but she’ll kill me when she gets back.”

A bilingual book on the country of El Salvador, offering the little known facet of postcards as testimonies of bygone eras.

Some buy postcards to exchange with other collectors; some to put away in a shoe box for a future occasion. I bought postcards as a means to an end: to write books. They were of increasing sophistication. In Guinea, I was one of four collaborators. In Indonesia, I matched postcards with literary extracts. In El Salvador, the 5-lb. coffee-table book was bilingual. Once the books came out, I no longer needed the postcards; I sold them to other collectors or donated them to libraries and cultural institutions.

CLICK HERE to see one-minute video teaser at Smithsonian National National African Art. People ask, what country are you collecting now? I say, no country, one building: postally used cards of the Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington DC.

This article appeare on Wichita Postcard Club Nesletter, May 2020 issue. CLICK HERE to download the newsletter.

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Old Amherst Postcards

by Stephen H. Grant | Aug 20, 2019 | Amherst, Folger, Postcards, Talk, Video

Amherst College, Walker Hall 1906

For Amherst College classmates and Library staff, I put together an illustrated talk on Old Amherst Postcards.

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“This is as great a tribute from a biographer to his subject as I have ever read.“

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Bird Nest Observation 2020

Bird Nest Observation 2022

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“I am so glad we have resurrected Emily’s reputation — and added proof to the life-long value of Higher Education for American women.“

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“What a fascinating piece. I particularly enjoyed reading about how your detective work uncovered the larger story. And the family pictures are priceless. You’ve inspired me to do more research on the Civil War soldiers from our house. Thanks so much for sharing it.”

Hiram L. Grant Bio

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Peter Strickland Book Launch at DACOR BACON HOUSE

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THE BOOK

THE AUTHOR

Share the interest and excitement of a book launch, reception, and book signing for Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards in a Salvadoran Museumat the end of the 20th century

From his retirement in Arlington, Virginia at the start of the 21st century, author and deltiologist Stephen Grant reflects on the magic of postcards as unsuspectedly rich testimony of bygone eras

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COLLECTING SHAKESPEARE:

The Story of Henry and Emily Folger

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COLLECTING SHAKESPEARE:

The Story of Henry and Emily Folger

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“Thank you, Stephen, for bringing this local shipmaster’s story to life and for showing others how hard work in the archives can result in meaningful stories to tell.”

PETER STRICKLAND:

New London Shipmaster, Boston Merchant, First Consul to Senegal

BOOK TRAILER

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Read PART I | Read PART II

Features of Old Postcards

Size & color

Publication

Postage stamps, postal history

Censorship

Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer

Early Salvadoran Postcards

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What do you do with your postcards?

Features of Old Postcards

Size & color

Type

Era

Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer

Early Salvadoran Postcards

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Collecting in general

Postcard Collecting

What is a postcard?

Where do you find postcards?

How much do postcards cost?

Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer

Early Salvadoran Postcards

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UPDATED with a NEWS FLASH

NEWS FLASH

Title Page of my copy of “The Shakespeare First Folio: The History of the Book Volume II A New Worldwide Census of First Folios

Share the interest and excitement of a book launch, reception, and book signing for Postales Salvadoreñas del Ayer/Early Salvadoran Postcards in a Salvadoran Museum
at the end of the 20th century

“Thank you, Stephen, for bringing this local shipmaster’s story to life
and for showing others how hard work in the archives can result in meaningful stories to tell.”

Photo 2: Calvin Coolidge oil portrait by Frank O. Salisbury, 1928. This copy he painted in 1934–commissioned by members of the
American Antiquarian society–was hung in the Oval Office at the request of President Ronald Reagan.