My latest addition to the collection – an early Daguerreotype of a little girl, by Charles C. Evans of 380 Market Street, Philadelphia. The velvet pad on the other side of the case reads “Evans 380 Market Street Girard Row” encircled by “Original Sun Beam”. I’d photograph the pad but the case, while complete, is in delicate condition and to do so would risk breaking the case completely (someone a long time in the past tried to repair the case and over-reinforced the spine, rendering it rigid and ultimately damaged it more). The image did have its original seals, but when I lifted the packet out of the case, they basically fell off, so now it’s time to re-seal it with the correct kind of archival tape.
Another recent acquisition for the collection is this daguerreotype of an unknown man by R. N. Keely, of 322 North 2nd Street, Philadelphia. Also an early daguerreotype (discernible by the attire of the sitter and the style of the mat), this is probably from the late 1840s. While the mat itself is still quite plain, it bears the photographer’s imprint, and the whole packet (this time complete with intact original seals!) is wrapped in a gilt brass frame.
I was also pleased to see that in this acquisition I had yet another photographer’s studio address to add to my Philadelphia Victorian Photographers’ map. Were I sufficiently motivated and had enough free time, I’d love to sync up the images in my collection with the studios’ addresses, and ideally match the dates as well. But, that would be a great project for an intern to tackle, should I ever have one (hmmm… maybe I should approach my high school alma mater and see if there would be a talented kid interested in the project????).
I submitted three photos to the Onward competition for emerging photographers. Emerging is defined in this case as not having a current ongoing relationship with an art gallery. I’ve had shows, both solo and group, but I’m not represented by any art gallery on an ongoing basis. Perhaps by the time I retire it will happen. In any case, Onward will be good exposure for my work (this time I’m submitting some of my older pieces, male figure studies shot with Polaroid Type 55 back when it was still available).
There are two rounds of judging – the first round, by JPEG only, will be complete and the results announced by December 16. A second round will be judged from actual submitted prints come January, with final results by February 1. The exhibition will take place in March at Project Basho in Philadelphia.
here’s a teaser of one of the images I submitted.
I’ve seen her name spelled Fritchie (there was a local chain of pancake houses in the Northern Maryland/Southern Pennsylvania area called Barbara Fritchie’s Waffle House. We had one on Main Street in Chambersburg, PA when I was growing up. I think it’s still there, and still has a 1930s/40s decor. I need to get up there and photograph it before they renovate and/or close it down and convert it into a Starbucks or something). The story, as rather floridly recounted in the poem on the carte, is that she was a 90 year old widow, living in Frederick, Maryland. Stonewall Jackson’s troops were marching through Frederick and saw the Union flag flying above her house. They shot it down, but she retrieved it and continued to wave it out her window. Stonewall Jackson was so moved by her devoted patriotism (even if for the other side) that he ordered his men to leave it and her alone.
There are variations on her story – I’ve seen her age listed anywhere between 90 and 95. The spelling of her name is inconsistent.
The photo, by Mathew Brady, was printed up with the John Greenleaf Whittier poem. The photo is not actually by Brady – that is to say, it is a copy of an existing daguerreotype of Barbara Fritchie, made by Brady. She never sat for him, because by the time the poem was written and the carte de visite created, she had been dead over a year. According to Wikipedia, the whole incident that inspired the poem never actually happened, as Jackson’s troops never marched up her street, but in fact were almost a quarter mile away:
The flag incident in the poem likely never occurred, however, as Barbara Fritchie was sick in bed that day. She told the housekeeper to hide all valuables to prevent looting, and to take in the U.S. flag that hung outside, but it was never moved, and as a result was shot up by the Confederate troops. Accounts differ as to how the legend that inspired the poem arose. The flag, a symbol of the need for myth in times of war, may be seen in the Barbara Fritchie House and Museum.
History disproves the poem with the fact that the Confederate troops never passed by her house. Although they were within range of sight, they would only have been heard by Mrs. Fritchie if they had yelled to her at the top of their lungs.
The troops marched south on Bentz Street and turned west on Patrick Street. To have passed Barbara Fritchie’s house, they would have needed to turn east and march a minimum of 1000 feet to have been at her door.
The woman who inspired the poem, and who was brandishing the flag in front of the Confederate troops, was actually Mary Quantrell who lived on Patrick Street.
In 1899, John Greenleaf Whittier was quoted in a New York Times article based on a letter he wrote to the Frederick Examiner shortly before his death, vouching that he had no knowledge that the Barbara Fritchie incident was a hoax.
What Whittier Knew
The Brady image was made to sell at the Great Sanitary Fair in Philadelphia in 1864. Sanitary Fairs
…were civilian-organized bazaars and expositions dedicated to raising funds on behalf of the United States Sanitary Commission (USSC) and other charitable relief organizations. Over the course of the Civil War, they became one of the most popular means of fundraising for the Union cause.
The name sounds somewhat misleading today in that it lends the aura of having something to do with bathing the participants. In fact, they were about protecting the health and welfare of soldiers in the field. the US Sanitary Commission was a relief organization, analagous to the Red Cross, that provided everything from bandages to nurses to food in the camps, and did what they could to enforce healthy living conditions for soldiers and the wounded in hospitals.
I’ve had a devil of a time trying to decipher the photographer’s name on the back – the best I can tell is it’s either H.B. Gerncore or H.L. Ger-something-something. In any case, it’s a beautiful photo of a strikingly proportionate little person. I’m frankly not even entirely sure he’s a little person and not just a pre-teen in a well-tailored suit. But the top hat and tails make it more likely he’s an adult sideshow or circus performer.
Here’s yet another photo of Tom Thumb and company, this time in the outfits they wore to meet Napoleon III. Also an Anthony print, with the facsimile signatures on the back. Again no attribution of the photographer, so while it is possible it’s a Brady, it’s likely not. Notice the hand-coloring of the women’s garlands and the men’s watch chains.
This is, for the most part, the “portrait” take on the Mummers Parade. With a few notable and obvious exceptions, these shots are of individuals in the parade. One of the things I found fascinating about the parade is the age range of the participants – everyone gets involved from toddlers in their first satin wench’s frock to seniors in mobility scooters. It’s a very family-oriented event despite the blatant public consumption of alcohol (frequently to excess, as my witnessing of a young, possibly underage, woman disgorging her beer onto the asphalt demonstrated. And NO, I did not document her embarrassment).
I’ll come back and do one more post of the Mummers Parade with the group shots, when I’ve got those organized.
A few more from the parade, taken with the Rollei. I have about 300 digital files to edit through before I post those – I switched to the Canon 5D after shooting these because the Rollei was rather labor-intensive and the lighting was rather dim, limiting me to slow enough shutter speeds that I was getting motion blur with a lot of images and I didn’t want to waste film. I think what came out best with the Rollei are images I’d classify as portraits. It excels at shooting people filling the frame at relatively close distances. Or maybe that’s just what I’m good at and I’m confusing the camera’s talent for my own.