"Dining in the King's Arms Tavern is a never-to-be-forgotten experience. By candlelight in this reconstructed eighteenth-century tavern you don three-foot square napkins before being served by waiters in colorful colonial costumes. Such delicacies are Virginia ham, fried chicken, English mutton chops, Sally Lunn bread1, escalloped oysters, and green gage plum ice cream are featured on the famous menu of colonial and Southern foods."
The restaurant remains quite popular today. In fact, diners are encouraged to make a reservation the day before if they don't want to be turned away.
And this is how the King's Arms experience is now described on its website:
"Enter the rustic reproduction tavern and be greeted by a server dressed in the fashion of the 18th century.
"Choose from a menu featuring tantalizing southern fare and sumptuous desserts. Colonial game pie and a chop of shoat2 have become house favorites. For a hearty appetite, consider Mrs. Vobe’s Tavern Dinner, a delectable multicourse meal.
"Save room for desserts and specialty drinks, such as Chocolate Fudge Torte, Williamsburg ice cream, a glass of Kir, or Chardonnay and creme de cassis served over ice."
According to some recent reviews on Yelp, the best menu items at the King's Arms include fried chicken, peanut soupe (yes, "soupe"), and the game pie, which includes venison, rabbit and duck.
As of today, the prices for some of these menu items, include:
Mrs. Vobe’s Peanut Soupe, $6.00
The Cheesemonger’s Selection3, $14.25
Colonial Game Pye, $31.25
A Chop of Shoat, $32.75
Mrs. Vobe’s Tavern Dinner4, $35.75
Syllabub5, $6.50
But let's turn back the clock for a moment and check out the vintage postcard. What's that in the lower-left corner?
What the heck? Unless it's the aforementioned Sally Lunn bread, that looks like a gelatin mold to me. What part of the authentic 18th century Colonial dining experience is gelatin representing? Is this perhaps another example of how America's foul and insidious Gelatin Culture seeped into every aspect of life in the middle of the 20th century? 6
Footnotes
1. Sally Lunn bun is a yeast bread that originated in Bath, England, in the 17th century. There is a Sally Lunn's in Bath, and its website contains an thorough history of the bread, weaving Huguenots, secret recipes, the Great Exhibition of 1851, Roman and medieval ovens, and more into the tale. The Sally Lunn bun became popular in the American Southern colonies, which is why it has such a prime place in Colonial Williamsburg. In fact you can purchase Sally Lunn Bread Mix for just $6.95 from the Williamsburg Marketplace.
2. A shoat is a young pig.
3. My wife would absolutely be ordering this.
4. Mrs. Vobe’s Tavern Dinner is described as: "Half of Sage-rubbed game Hen with savory Herb dressing, Scuppernong-Chutney sauce, Herb-mashed Potatoes, and Cook’s Vegetable served with Peanut Soupe and a choice of Williamsburg Pecan Pie or Williamsburg Ice Cream."
5. Syllabub is described as: "Wine-laced Cream whipped to a Froth, seasoned with Lemon Zest,
and garnished with seasonal Berries."
6. Here is a rundown of past Papergreat gelatin coverage:
This undated postcard features an illustration of York County's Peach Bottom Atomic Power Station. Construction on the facility began in 1958 and it became operational in 1966. The caption on the back of the postcard states:
"Artist's conception of the Peach Bottom Atomic Power Station on the Susquehanna River, Peach Bottom Township, York County, Pa., built by Philadelphia Electric and fifty-two other investor-owned utility companies. This high-temperature, helium-cooled nuclear power station, with a capacity of 40,000 kilowatts, will be owned and operated by Philadelphia Electric Company."
The illustration was fairly accurate, if you compare it to this undated photograph of the power station — featuring a similar aerial view — from the U.S. Department of Energy.
The power station was built by Bechtel Corporation, which dates to 1898 and has been involved with the construction of Hoover Dam, the "Chunnel", King Fahd International Airport in Saudi Arabia, and the infamous Big Dig in Boston.
Peach Bottom Atomic Power Station, which is about 50 miles southeast of Three Mile Island, has three units. Unit 1 was in commission from 1966 to 1974. Unit 2 and Unit 3 went into service in 1974 and have been licensed to run in 2033 and 2034, respectively.
Here are links to some more information about Peach Bottom:
I could research and write about postcards all day long for Papergreat.
Let's see how many I can get through today.
(IDEA! Maybe I'll try to hold a Postcard Blogging Marathon sometime this year. I'll see how many postcards I can blog about in a 24-hour period and try to raise some money for a worthy cause. People will be able to pledge a certain amount for each post — say, 25¢ — and it'll just be a swell old hootenanny.)
Fortunately, I find all postcards interesting, so it's by no means an expensive hobby for me. For others, it certainly can be. But I am not enraptured by Holy Grail quests for postcards that sell for hundreds of dollars at auction.2 Or those hard-to-find vintage Ellen Clappsaddle Hallowe'en postcards. Nope, the "commons," for those who would call them that, suit me just fine. And there's nothing common about them, to my eye.
So today's first vintage card is for Cut-N-Sew Fashion Fabric Salon, which was located on U.S. 41 in downtown Brandenton, Florida.2
The unused card, likely from the 1960s, was published by Paul L. Patterson of 717 21st St. West in Bradenton. It was printed by Dukane Press of Hollywood, Florida.
"Fabrics and patterns to make your own clothes were sold at the Cut-N-Sew Fashion Fabric Salon in downtown Bradenton in the 1960s. 'Come meet the friendly folks' was its slogan."
I also found this newspaper article, which mentions Cut-N-Sew, in the February 23, 1971, issue of the Sarasota Herald-Tribune. At some point, the business might have changed its name to Gulf Coast Cut-N-Sew, and, in this 1974 Florida court case, Gulf Coast Cut-N-Sew is mentioned as being "defunct."
Does anyone have any memories of Cut-N-Sew? If so, please share them in the comments section.
Footnotes
1. According to that Valuable Rare Postcards page, some of the biggest sales in December 2012 were for a rare, unused 1905 Philadelphia Athletics card ($600); a real-photo postcard of Main Street in tiny Adrian, Minnesota ($466); and a real-photo postcard of the Titanic leaving Belfast ($321).
2. U.S. 41 sounds like a great road to travel on. It winds from the upper peninsula of Michigan to Miami, Florida, taking you on a 2,000-mile trek through America. It's kind of a north-south version of Route 66.
"Jim and Judy" was an entry in a Macmillan series titled "The New Work-Play Books." This particular grade-school book was originally published in 1939 and then had a number of reprintings. This nifty copy that I came across was from the January 1944 reprinting.
The 154-page book was quite a team effort. There were three authors — Arthur L. Gates, Miriam Blanton Huber and Celeste Comegys Peardon.
The textbook includes sections titled Birthday Surprises, The Airplanes, Fun at the Farm, and Off to School. The final section is a fairy tale titled "The Story of the Little White House."
The front end papers of the book include an awesome blue illustration of a model farm that Jim and his father build in the first section of the book.
And, yes, that's an old school stamp on the left side of the above illustration. Here's a closer look, with the contrast adjusted to make it more readable.
It states, in part: "This BOOK is the Property of Spring Garden Township School District ... Violet Hill School ... York, Penna."
Before I launched into a big research mission on Violet Hill School and Spring Garden Township School District, I asked my wife if she had heard of them. Lo and behold, Stephen H. Smith just published a huge post titled "Violet Hill in Spring Garden Township; Assorted Maps, Hotel & Schoolhouses" on the YorksPast blog a few days ago. What are the odds? So I urge you to go check out his terrific piece.
Here are some more illustrations from today's textbook:
Finally, here's the sentient, talking house from "The Story of the Little White House." Eventually, a young boy and girl, both orphaned and pixie-like, come to live in the house and make friends with Brown Horse, Gray Rabbit, Brown Hen, Red Rooster, Yellow Cat and Black Dog.
Old envelopes can still be cool, even when they're empty.
Here's what I can tell you about the front of this envelope:
It's about the size of an index card.
It's from the 1800s.
The name "C. Robinson" is written across the top.
It's addressed to Hon. Wm. H.L. Bayley of Bristol, Rhode Island.1
The partial postmark includes the words "D.C." and "FREE".
On the back of the envelope is a red wax stamp, 1¼ inches wide.
Take a closer look at it...
The text around the edges of the stamp reads "HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES U.S." The center features what looks like an eagle and an olive branch. Pretty cool! This was most likely a letter sent by a member of Congress roughly a century and a half ago.
The "FREE" on the partial postmark on the front of the envelope would seem to confirm that this politician had the franking privilege. Check out this excerpt from Wikipedia. The bold section is my doing:
"In the United States, the franking privilege predates the establishment of the republic itself, as the Continental Congress bestowed it on its members in 1775. The First United States Congress enacted a franking law in 1789 during its very first session. Congress members would spend much time 'inscribing their names on the upper right-hand corner of official letters and packages' until the 1860s for the purpose of sending out postage free mail. Yet, on January 31, 1873, the Senate abolished 'the congressional franking privilege after rejecting a House-passed provision that would have provided special stamps for the free mailing of printed Senate and House documents.' Within two years, however, Congress began to make exceptions to this ban, including free mailing of the Congressional Record, seeds, and agricultural reports. Finally, in 1891, noting that its members were the only government officials required to pay postage, Congress restored full franking privileges. Since then, the franking of congressional mail has been subject to ongoing review and regulation."
I think, to spice things up, we should return to the practice of sealing all of our mail with wax stamps, but I'm not sure the United States Postal Service would be too thrilled with that idea.
Footnote
1. William H.L. Bayley is listed as a surveyor in a government tome titled (deep breath) "Register of All Officers and Agents, Civil, Military, and Naval, in the Service of the United States, on the Thirtieth September, 1849; with the Names, Force and Condition of All Ships and Vessels Belonging to the United States, and When and Where Built; Together with the Names and Compensation of All Printers in Any Way Employed by Congress, or Any Department or Officer of the Government."
Postcard featuring a much safer way for a child to ride an animal: Regarding the hat, I originally wrote: "Those crossed rifles are the insignia of the Infantry Branch of the United States Army. The '42' above the rifles likely refers to the 42nd Infantry Regiment, which was constituted in 1917. I'm not sure what the 'SV' below the rifles refers to. Any experts on this topic out there?"
John Lincoski, a classmate of mine from Penn State University back in the day, came through: "Finally! My history dork skills are needed! 'SV' stands for service company. I think that's the headquarters company of the regiment. Also, judging from the cut of the jacket and hat I think this is more likely pre-WW1. More likely Spanish-American War or before."
Also, Jayne B. Lyons asked the question: "Do you have any idea why she would have worn the insignia?"
I replied: "No idea. Best guess would be that it's a relative's hat -- father, uncle, brother. I don't have anything further to go on, unless the girl pictured is the 'Valera Sell' whose name appears on the back."
Jennifer Huff Robinson: She's pretty hot for a bank ad.
Ted Schaefer: And she has flip flops on; they were a pretty new item around York in 1962.
Jennifer Huff Robinson: I didn't notice the flip flops, but I noticed the sleeveless top. She looks just like me and how I dress with having the convenience of so many banks around.
Ted Schaefer: She also has pedal pushers on which my mother wore a lot; my mother didn't wear tops like that though.
Terrence Dutchie Downs: It says they're the really friendly bank. Now you see why.
Betty Eppard Sipe: Pedal pushers, tube top and flip flops. Has to be the sixties.
Jennifer Huff Robinson: Pedal pushers???? I believe we call them Capri's in the new millenium. ... I'll duck now.
JoAnne Everhart: Jennifer, they were called pedal pushers because girls wore them to ride bicycles as slacks could get caught in the pedals and chain of a bicycle. I can remember as a child when blue jeans were called dungarees. Same item of apparel with a different name! Just thinking that in the 60's flip flops were called thongs!
Me: I love that this post became a launching point for a footwear discussion.
Scott Eby: Thongs certainly have a different meaning these days!
Roadside Wonders: Forget the broad ... I want that CHAIR!
Jennifer Huff Robinson: How did I miss that CHAIR!! Good eye Roadside Wonders.
Greg Halpin: I think she is to be seen as a sunbathing beauty, because she has "More time for relaxation..."
Ken Baker: There's a chair?
Ted Schaefer: Not only were they called pedal pushers, for a short time, around 59 or 60, they made them for guys and they were called clam diggers. I had a pair when I was 12 or 13 along with a rope belt, and boat neck T-shirt. Thank god that didn't stay in style long. I think Gilligan's Island was the influence of these clothes.
And Leslie Ann, who blogs at Lost Family Treasures, adds: "Ok. That's got me baffled. Let me think on it."
But Linda Chenoweth Harlow says the answer is obvious: "Clear to me. The child is standing on the cow's yoke and guiding the animal with the prodding stick as it's working in the field. Not sure it's feasible but that's what it looks like to me."
Of course, that still leaves a lot of unresolved questions. I'm sure Child Protective Services will be calling.
Wendyvee writes: "Bingo! Now THAT should be your avatar!"
And my wife adds: "I think he looks very Nordic. And Mr. Otto has been known to sport a green vest and matching green cap (not knitted, but still...) I think I agree with you!"
Response to Wendyvee and Joan: Zero chance on the avatar. What do you think this is? A silly blog? We won't have that.
Maybe Bradley is just pulling my leg. But I'm pretty sure that's a knife in the kid's hand — not a spoon.
* * *
Old postcard of a suspicious-looking man mailing a letter: PostMuse writes: "I haven't read Sun Dog, but the Wikipedia entry has convinced me there is no way I should even think of reading it. Took me 20 years to recover from "Gerald's Game." I did read "11/22/63" without fear. Although, that one doesn't have any animal horror ... just a freaky Orange Card Man."
* * *
Did Pop get a Py-sicle after winning this round of golf in Clearwater? Richard Gottfried, who describes himself on Twitter as "a Champion Minigolfer on a Crazy World of Minigolf Tour of the UK’s #Minigolf & Crazy Golf courses" writes: "Great blog and nice Minigolf blog post. I like the line 'BIGGEST LITTLE GAME ON EARTH' on the scorecard."
Help me with official Papergreat Market Research: And last, but far from least, I recently asked readers to vote for what Papergreat subcategory they'd be most interested in seeing collected in book format. I joked that "a movie deal seems a bit out of reach at the moment."
But little did I know that Wendyvee was going to put together this gem, worthy of a Best Director Oscar:
Wendyvee, that was just plum awesome. Thank you!
Footnote
1. Barrel not included. Participating dealers only. Results may vary. If your barrel lasts for more than four hours...
Line them up and admire the colors and typography of their "strange" spines.
The covers are especially nifty, too. Even if there was an alarming lack of original ways to deploy the word "strange" within the title.
P.S. - I'm fairly certain the Berbalang ghouls mentioned on the cover of "Strange Happenings" are not real. But, just in case, I'm going to pick up some lime juice on our next trip to the grocery store.
The graphic design of this early 1960s Japanese postcard is just stellar.
I've written about the Ginza Tokyu Hotel before, but learned something new from this postcard — I hadn't realized that it was under "Swiss Management" during this era.
For more on this hotel, which closed in 2001, check out these past posts:
One of these days, I should probably take all of these separate Ginza Tokyu Hotel entries and wrap them up in one comprehensive post, like I did with Lada Draskovic.
With the official swearing-in ceremony for Barack Obama's second inauguration taking place yesterday and the public ceremony happening today, here's a timely old advertisement.
This inauguration-themed notice for Sozodont, an oral hygiene product, appeared in an issue of The Strand Magazine in early 1897. The hook was the upcoming inauguration for William McKinley, who was sworn in on March 4, 1897.1 The copy states:
"With the incoming administration, eleven presidential terms will have witnessed the world-wide supremacy of Sozodont for the teeth and breath, the leading dentifrice of America, and the only one of international reputation."
The cost of the product was 75 cents, which translates to a hefty $19.95 in 2011 figures, according to The Inflation Calculator. Phew!
If you couldn't make it to your druggist, there were no worries: "The postal and express authorities have just agreed to carry a complete package — liquid and powder — to any point in the U.S. and Canada."
But was this product, which had been around since the James Buchanan administration, any good? It appears not.
According to Wikipedia, Sozodont was launched in 1859 by New Jersey druggist Roswell van Buskirk. Its name came from the Greek sozo, meaning "to save", and dontia, meaning "teeth."2
Sozodont's ingredients included orris root, carbonate of calcium, magnesia, castile soap, glycerin, water, alcohol, and, for flavoring, a little oil of peppermint, clover, cinnamon, and star anise.
Through heavy advertising, Sozodont, which was dispensed from glass bottles, become a household word.
But while it was claimed that the product strengthened teeth, hardened gums, freshened the mouth and stopped the buildup of tartar, it also did something else.
It turned teeth yellow.
Said one dentist in 1880: "I will testify to what is so well known to most dentists, viz., that it [Sozodont] destroys the color of the teeth, turning them to a decidedly dark-yellow."
Said another in 1900: "The liquid of Sozodont ... is far too alkaline for general use, and would in time destroy the enamel of the teeth and make them yellow."
And then you wouldn't look very presidential at all.
Footnote
1. Presidential inaugurations were originally on March 4 — the day of the year on which the Constitution first took effect in 1789. But this was changed to noon on January 20 by the Twentieth Amendment in 1933.
2. Here are some other Papergreat posts about teeth:
"Pennsylvania Dutch Traditional Recipes for Pies and Pastries" is a staplebound booklet originally published in 1963. The introduction states:
"The Pennsylvania Dutch loved their pies and ate them morning, noon and night. There were pies on the table at every meal. Everyone helped himself and 'ate himself full.'"
But the pies were not always for the happiest occasions. One of the pies featured in the booklet is called funeral pie. It didn't take much searching to discover the reason behind the name.
Dictionary.com: "Funeral pie, noun, Pennsylvania Dutch Cookery. A traditional pie made with a black filling of raisins and lemon juice and presented to a bereaved family."
Arlene Wright-Correll on Helium: "Before we became accustomed to having every staple we needed on hand whether in or out of season our pantry or larder held just a few things such as flour, sugar, salt, coffee and the rest of the time we cooked whatever was in season and most of the time we preserved, canned or dried our seasonal excesses of produce and that included grapes which gave us raisins. When it came time to bring something to a funeral it usually had to be something that one could cook or bake quickly using what was on hand and often that was raisins. The Amish and Pennsylvania Dutch often called Rosina pie (which is Dutch for Raisins) Funeral pie."
Dogpatch Days: "Funeral pie is a raisin pie. I expect it came to be known as funeral pie because you never knew when you'd have to provide one to a bereaved relative or friend, and raisins were always in season, unlike peaches or blueberries. Sure you could make pies of dried apples or other things, but the shock of the death may have left you unable to deal with mixing mincemeat or roasting pumpkins. Raisins make practically fast-food pie."
One Perfect Bite: "It became a favorite of Mennonite cooks because the ingredients were always available and the pie kept well. That meant it could be made a day or two before the funeral supper and freed hands for other tasks. The pie is not unpleasant, and if you love raisins or mincemeat I suspect you'll love it. One caution. It is very sweet. Susan, who writes The Well-Seasoned Chef, let us know that the pie is deliberately made cloyingly, almost painfully, sweet to allow mourners to forget, if only for a moment, the pain of their grief. If I make this again, I'll reduce the sugar by half."
I also found a smart and amusing post on the Poor Richard's Almanac blog in which the author — who describes his work as "a Luddite’s take on life, chickens, and other critical issues" — tries to track down a recipe for "Amish funeral potatoes" and ends up on an awful lot of tangents. A kindred spirit, indeed.
Anyway, before I go off on a tangent, here is the booklet's recipe:
Funeral Pie
1 cup seeded raisins, washed
2 cups water
1½ cups sugar
4 tablespoons flour
1 egg, well beaten
juice of a lemon
2 teaspoons grated lemon rind
pinch of salt
Soak raisins 3 hours, mix sugar, flour and egg. Then add seasoning, raisins and liquid. Cook over hot water for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. When the mixture is cool, empty into a pie-dough lined pie plate. Cover pie with narrow strips of dough, criss-crossed and bake until browned.
(Note that the ingredients and the recipe don't include the process of creating the pie dough, which you would, of course, also need.)
Everyone has played Car Bingo, right? It's an American tradition in the land of automobiles, road trips, Texaco, roadside diners, interstate highways, billboards, motels, and Route 66. Many of us grew up playing Car Bingo and its partner-in-passing-time, the Licence Plate Game, from the back seat.1
This card, which measures about 6¾ inches wide and was produced by Regal Mfg. Co. of Chicago, includes such items as wheel barrow, haystack, wood pile, barber shop and pig. Overall, it has an interesting mix of items that would require driving through both rural areas and towns in order to achieve a winning board.
While all of these items would still be relevant for Car Bingo today, perhaps, for relevancy, some of them would be replaced with items that are more in tune with our reality today:
On the creative end of the spectrum, the National Wildlife Federation shows how you can make your own Car Bingo boards. Or, on the lazy end of the spectrum, you could just download an app to your kid's iPhone.
Share your memories of Car Bingo and passing the time on long road trips in the comments section!
Footnotes
1. My sister Adriane and I also played a back-seat game called Lava. The space between us was "lava," and we would hold our hands over it and try to slap each other's hand down into it.
2. The Wikipedia page for Roadkill Bingo is very straight-faced and serious about the game, and includes the following passage: "Controversy may arise when a dead animal is spotted which may not technically be classified as roadkill, and when two players simultaneously spot the roadkill. Players in the front seat have a clear advantage, however, the driver must have someone else mark his or her card. To promote brevity of games, regional variations include animals more likely to be found dead in the particular locale."
