How are they coming. Fine I suppose. We are all very good down here. We are making the mission now and have to be good. I suppose you are having a fine time up there.
Eddie R.
In 1910, William Howard Taft was president, Joyce Hall founded Hallmark Cards, the first unofficial Father’s Day was observed, and although aviation is getting off the ground (see what I did there?), the first American pilot dies in a crash in front of 5,000 spectators. America had lived in the 20th century for a decade, and it was already looking to be a doozy.
The more I read this card, the more questions I seem to have. Eddie and Annie seem to be young…perhaps what we would deem upper elementary or middle school age (between 10-14). But, based on the context of the card, I can’t tell if the two are related, friends, or if this was some sort of project or pen-pal scheme.
Both Annie and Eddie were a little difficult to track down in the records. Anna because I’m not sure if her name is spelled incorrectly on the card. It could be Mathes, but it could also actually be Mathis. Especially if Eddie wasn’t sure. But, I only found one Anna Mathis born in Chaska — so I’m thinking I found a match.
Anna Mathis was born in June of 1893 to a German father and Dutch mother. She was the oldest of two children and lived in Chaska (a suburb of Minnesota) for at least 20 years. This puts her at about 17 when she received this card. Older than I would have guessed, but still a teen.
However, 1910 is when the record runs out, though her father died in 1917 and her mother remarried in 1919. I went through Anna’s cousins on her mother’s side, and didn’t see an Ed, Edward, or Eddie. There’s no family information listed on her father’s side, which means if Eddie was a cousin from her dad’s family…I wouldn’t know. However, Anna’s dad immigrated from Germany in his 30’s, so unless he came over with a brother or sister, it’s unlikely Eddie is from that side of the family.
Our trail runs out there, I’m afraid. My guess is that Eddie is still younger than Anna, and was probably prompted by a parent to write. It’s possible he was older and that there was a small courtship going on, but this feels more familial than anything. What do you think?
“Bird’s Eye View of Minneapolis, West of Fourth Street”
Well did you get a man yet, if not if I would know I would bring up a duch-man(sic). Love and kisses.
From,
Bill
In 1915, Woodrow Wilson was president, “Typhoid Mary” infected 25 people and was put in quarantine for life, Babe Ruth hit his first career home run, the film Birth of a Nation was released — a precursor to the second iteration of the Ku Klux Klan (also established in 1915), and the R.M.S Lusitania was sunk on it’s way to Britain by a German U-Boat.
And apparently, Bill was trying to hook Susie up with a “duch-man”.
I first have to say, I really love this card. Like, more than love…I adore this card. It’s playful, flippant, goading — everything I need for a little drama in my life. Written in pencil that’s faded only slightly over the 100 years it’s been in circulation, this card feels familial. Like something a brother might write to a sister. So, when I began to research the card, that’s where I started.
I’ll be honest, there were so many Susie and Susan Miller’s of various ages in 1915, that I can’t be sure I found the right one. I will say, I only found one with a brother named “William”, which can be shortened to “Bill.” Is this confirmation bias? Probably, since that’s what I was looking for. However, the card tells me that this is one of two situations:
First, a family member (brother) is teasing Susie. Second, Bill is actually sweet on Susie and is also teasing her (lol I found someone else for you lol). I lean toward the first scenario, so I’ll describe the people I found. You can make your best guess as well.
Susan G. Miller was born in Pennsylvania on May 26, 1895. She had two other siblings: Edward W Miller (1890) and William B. Miller (1892). It seems Edward died young, in 1918. Based on the date and his grave, I think he was probably killed in World War I, though whether he died from gas, bullets, or Spanish Flu is unclear.
The two remaining children, William and Susan, lived with their mother Maude until at least 1940. That’s where the records for both William and Susan end. I’m unsure when William died, but Susan lived until April of 1986, and passed away at the age of 91. I can’t find a grave for her, nor could I find additional information about her past 1940.
For some reason, it always makes me a little sad when I find a person who seems to have lived a life alone with no spouse and no children. It makes me wonder why. I understand that now, in 2024, it’s often a choice to remain unattached. For man (especially women) this is a form of freedom we’ve never been historically afforded.
But typically, a 20 year old girl in the early 1900’s would have been expected to marry. Though, Susan did live out her formative years under the shadow of World War I, the riotous 1920’s, and the crushing 1930’s. It’s possible that social change combined with the economic struggle of the Great Depression prevented her from finding “the one.”
It’s also possible that she wanted to remain with her mother and brother (perhaps one or both were ill?), or she simply wanted to make her own path. For a woman in the 20’s, 30’s, and 40’s, this would have been difficult — but not impossible. Susan lived through a vast expansion of rights for Americans. She may have seized her opportunity and marched to the beat of her own drum.
In 1907, Teddy Roosevelt was president, Ellis Island saw the busiest year, with 1.1 million immigrants arriving, a variety of national forests was established (thanks to Roosevelt), and a major financial crisis hit the New York Stock Exchange. The crisis was only stopped with a group of financiers, including J.P. Morgan, funded a pool of $25,000,000 to bail the exchange out. This led to the Federal Reserve.
Officially, the US “closed” the frontier in 1890. However, that doesn’t mean that the wide expanse of western land and sweeping western skies filled with fluffy cumulus clouds didn’t hold an appeal. Even the postcard shows blue skies dotted with clouds and land that trundles off into the distance, unobscured and untouched. Certainly different from a place like Delaware County, Pennsylvania, that had been settled by Europeans since before the founding of our nation.
I’ve featured this postcard before, but as I’ve said in a few previous posts, I’m trying to re-visit some of my favorite cards in an effort to provide more information and perhaps uncover some of the people involved. I did talk somewhat extensively about Silverton, Colorado on my first post — but suffice it to say, it was a mining town that looks very much the same today as it did in 1907.
As for Elizabeth Jordan, I believe I found her. Elizabeth was born on January 24, 1892 to Elizabeth McFarlin and Jacob Jordan. She was the 6th of 8 children, all of whom survived and lived (mostly) long lives. In 1907, she would have been 15 years old. In 1922, she married Bonva Allen. They had one child together.
I’m fairly certain of my identification of Elizabeth, since I can place her in Delaware County, PA (she was the only one). Based on her age, I hoped it would be a straight shot from her to Joe. I thought maybe a brother, but none match the name. That led me to think that it was perhaps a cousin who wrote. But, her parents both have a lot of siblings and still, I couldn’t find a cousin named “Joe”. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t a cousin, it just means the records are a bit fuzzy.
It’s possible, as well, that this is not our Elizabeth. It’s always a little dicey with research, especially since I have access to so few records. I don’t have a subscription to the bigger sites like Ancestry, and I don’t pay for newspapers.com. Maybe one day I’ll splurge, but that day is not today. For now, then, Joe will have to remain a mystery. But I do hope that when Elizabeth received this card, her mind was filled with the thought of crisp, clean mountain air, skies that went on for days, and falling asleep under a painting of milky stars.
In 1908, Teddy Roosevelt was president, the Converse Rubber Shoe Company is formed, and Thomas Selfridge is the first person to pass away from an airplane crash. For those who follow my blog, you’ll know that 1908 is one of my favorite years to collect from. You’ll also know I love the Progressive Era and all the changes that were taking place at the start of the 20th Century. I think it was my late 90’s obsession with the musical Ragtime.
Although this card doesn’t give us too much, a simple “drive safe and in good condition,” implicitly it says a lot about the changing laws and norms that surrounded postcards. In 1907, it became legal to place a message on the back of postcards. This is known as the “divided back” period. Prior to 1907, postcards had to be addressed on the back, and any message was squished onto the front. This often caused problems, as the front of the postcard could smear, or there was very little room to write anything.
What’s unique about this card is that it looks like it’s from the “undivided back period” (historians aren’t great at making fancy names for eras). During this period, the address would take up the entirety of the back of the card, and any message had to be squished in to what little blank space was on the front. In fact, if you look at this particular card, you can see that there’s a tiny bit of space on the left. Certainly not enough to write more than a passing phrase.
However, our friend Roy divided his own back. It was legal, after all, to write the message on the back of the card along with the address, so Roy went ahead and took advantage of that fact. Maybe he had an old postcard lying around, or a set of them. Or perhaps stores still sold the undivided back sets. Whatever the case, Roy drew a stark line down the card and wrote his message.
Except he didn’t really say much. “Drive safe and in good condition” would have easily fit on the front of the card, and there were no laws saying you couldn’t write on the front after 1907. It seems to me that the collective habit of writing out a short note on a postcard took longer to fade from the zeitgeist. Roy divided his back, but kept the message clipped. He said all he needed to say.
As for the Maurey’s…I’m not 100% sure I found them. Honestly, I’m only about 70% sure I have the right family, but I’ll explain what I found and let you make your best guess.
As you know, it’s incredibly difficult to find anyone with just initials. If you add to the fact that this card is written to a woman…now you have her obscured by both her husband’s name AND his initials. Which can be doubly frustrating. Nonetheless, I searched up the name and plugged in a few dates.
The first promising hit was a Roy Maurey. Thinking maybe this is the writer, I decided to check out Roy’s family tree. Turns out, he had a father named…drumroll please…Henry M. Maurey. That takes care of the HM. But these are all men’s names. Who is the woman behind them? Henry was married to Emma Fritz. Could she be our HM Maurey? I think it’s possible. Let me break the family down.
Henry M. Maurey was born on May 7, 1856 in Lebanon Pennsylvania. Unfortunately, the record doesn’t show when he married Emma Fritz, but the two of them had three children together. Henry died the day before his birthday, May 6 of 1932 at the age of 76. And, I can’t stress this enough, he would have been roughly 4 years old at the beginning of the American Civil War. His wife, Emma, was born in November of 1859. Unfortunately, I don’t have a death date for her, and I couldn’t find grave information for either of them.
Their son, Roy, was born on December 26 of 1888. At some point, he married Florence Edna Wilbur (can’t find out when). I have to imagine that the card, then was sent to his mother, Mrs. HM Maurey, because they were coming out to visit. Roy would have been 20 by this time and perhaps working in Maryland. Though, and this is the kicker, I can’t place him there in the records.
Here’s where the story takes a bit of a sad turn. Roy died on March 6, 1913 at the age of 25. He had one son with Florence. Roy Jr. was born 7 months later, on October 6, 1913. Which, is honestly tragic. Even worse, Florence passed away on October 13, 1916, when Roy Jr. was only 3 years old. By the census of 1920, Roy Jr. was living with our very own Henry M Maurey in Sunbury, PA. He lived a long life, passing away at the age of 80 in Illinois.
Because of this postcard, I was able to attach a variety of documents to his family tree, and I found his gravesite. Perhaps…perhaps these are not the original people involved in our postcard. But, I have to believe that the story was asking to be told and that led me to this family.
I hope you enjoyed reading this twisted tale. What do you think? Did I find the right people?
Front of Postcard, Interior of Cathedral, Baltimore, MD
Came up here Sun. for our second week. Herb stepped on the scales last nite — but not me! I can walk right past them. Temp. was 101 yesterday 0n the mainland but in our “no.12” it wasn’t so bad. Is Waterloo still only nine miles from Lake?
Alas(?)
In 1946, Harry S. Truman was president, the Philippines is granted independence by the United States (lest we forget that we for sure held territories and still do), the first underwater test on a nuclear bomb is conducted at Bikini Atoll, Dr. Spock released The Common Sense Book of Baby and Childcare, and It’s a Wonderful Life is released in theaters. Civil and social strife are still rampant, with a variety of lynchings that take place in the south, but the government is (slowly) moving toward civil rights laws.
In 1946, World War II was over, and the age of the United States had begun. The US had escaped from the war almost unscathed, and although this was a time of prosperity (for some), values began to move further and further right as the US struggled against Russia. Although it would be another 8 years before “under God” was added to the Pledge of Allegiance (1954), the US still felt the need to “prove” our superiority. This began the age of the baby boom.
When researching this postcard, the first thing that struck me was Alas’ mention of “Herb stepped on the scales.” I don’t know enough about vacationing in the 40’s to know if that was something that people regularly did (weigh themselves on vacation…) or if the “stepped on the scales” phrase means something different than what my modern mind understands. But, I did find a pamphlet for the lodge for sale on Ebay, and it looks nice! Horseback riding, tennis, shuffleboard, golf nearby, a pool and a lake. There’s also winter sports apparently. So, it seems that perhaps if you’re being active you might want to see if you’ve lost weight. But not Alas. I love a queen who knows how to protect her peace.
As for Mr. and Mrs. Melvin Else, I believe I found them. Though, I do think this postcard was written from a woman to a woman, so let’s begin by uncovering Mrs. Melvin Else. Mable Setz was born in 1907 in Waterloo, Wisconsin and lived nearly a full century, passing away on March 29, 2004. She and Melvin married August 28, 1936 when they were both 29 years old. Melvin died relatively early, in 1984 at the age of 76. Mable, however, kept on, living her whole life in Waterloo. No children are listed on the family search, so I’m unclear if they did have children, or if the children just aren’t listed.
What was their tie to Alas and Herb? I had hoped that either Melvin or Mable had a brother or sister that would help me find the other couple, but neither had siblings that even remotely matched with the names. I’m thinking perhaps cousins, or even old friends from Melvin’s military days (he served in WWII)? It would explain the question of “Is Waterloo still only 9 miles away from Lakes” Which…is a strange question since I can’t imagine a lake or a city are going to move.
Either way, the connection was strong enough that Mable and/or Melvin kept the postcard. Now, I have the pleasure of recounting Alas and Herb’s adventure to you, my dear readers. May we all have the strength of Alas to “walk by” those proverbial scales.
Deer Trail Lodge, Lake Nokomis, Heafford JCT., Wisconsin
How are you. I am fine and dandy. Marie said she was saving her daughter for you so don’t get married. “Ha Ha”. I never got your letter until the other day and will just send you a card. Haven’t seen tasel(?) for a long time. Well so long and soon.
Yours,
Chuck
542 N. Elder Ave, Indpls
In 1912, William Howard Taft was the president, New Mexico and Arizona were admitted as the 47th and 48th U.S. State (respectively), and in the early hours of April 15, the RMS Titanic sank in the chilly waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Suffragettes paraded in New York City, and Theodore Roosevelt was shot in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, proceeds to give a speech, then goes to the hospital.
It was a crazy year.
This card is one of the first postcards I put on this blog, though I felt like I never quite did it justice. There is just so, so much going on. First, there’s the innuendo that “marie” is “saving” her daughter for Frank. Which…I guess the jibe is fun but it gives me a bit of the ick. I also wonder why Chuck “never got” Frank’s letter. As a professional procrastinator, I wonder if Chuck did in fact get the letter, forgot about it until he saw Marie, then remembered to send a card.
Much to my chagrin, I couldn’t find Frank at all. There were a few decent candidates, but none of them fit the timeline well. I have to assume that in 1912 Frank was somewhere between 20-30 (I’d guess 22), especially seeing as his friend is teasing him about getting married. Also, Antigo is a relatively small town, though it’s part of the lumber industry. It’s possible that Frank was a lumber worker.
Which might be why he’s hidden from us in the archives. If he only worked in Antigo as a seasonal worker, or for a year or two, then there would have been no reason for the census to record him living in that city. Also, I wonder if he’s listed in the archives as simply “Frank Gordon”. It’d be strange, since “Van Gordon” isn’t that crazy of a last name, but it’s still possible I suppose.
Well, I revisited this card in the hopes that I could shed a little more light on Frank and his friend. I’m sorry that I couldn’t find them! At least I feel like I’ve given the card it’s due — especially since so much happened during 1912! I do wonder what happened to Frank. I hope he lived a good life, and managed to sit down to dinner with Chuck at some point.
As an aside, the postcard front is so silly when you connect it to the message on the back. Chuck is teasing Frank about a wife, then sends a card that reads “I found a Queen in Indianapolis. If you’re wise, you’ll hurry here.” That’s more than a hint, it’s a smack across the head with a trowel.
Front of Postcard. “I found a Queen in Indianapolis If you’re wise you’ll hurry here.”
I am feeling fine and having a good time swimming. How would you like to take a dip with me.
Yours Truly,
Robert Hensley
Another postcard from the Roaring Twenties! I must be feeling the vibe of flappers and speakeasies! And, honestly, 1927 was a bit of a wild year. Actress Mae West was sentenced to 10 days in jail for her play titled “sex” because she “corrupted the morals of youth.” The Supreme Court decided the case Buck v. Bellwhich allowed for the compulsory sterilization of people with intellectual disabilities. I hate to tell you that this precedent hasn’t been specifically overturned, though it fell out of use in 1942 after Skinner vs. Oklahoma. In other news, the last Ford Model T is produced (later replaced with the Model A) and the Jazz Singer opened to great success; the beginning of the end for silent films.
There is a lot that is interesting to me about this card. One of the main points of interest is that I have two of the exact same cards (“A Rough Day on Lake Michigan”) postmarked 30 years apart. I decided to post this one today, and I’ll do the second one tomorrow. Sort of a fun trek through time to see that, when it comes to vacations, not much changes.
And so Robert Hensley found himself on Lake Michigan and decided to write to his friend, Colby Reed. Unfortunately, even though I have Robert’s full name, I couldn’t be positive I found him in the records. As is often the case with postcards, the people who wrote them are obscured by the card itself. Colby knew Robert, did not need an address, or probably even a last name. Thus, the act of recording a message and sending it to a friend becomes an act of erasure when it comes to family searches.
Colby, however, was much easier. With the city and state, I found him quickly. Colby P. Reed was born October 25 of 1909. At the time of this postcard, he was about 17 years old. Which honestly tracks, because the handwriting on the card is stilted and juvenile. It’s clearly two friends writing to each other, and I’d assume Robert is roughly the same age as Colby.
In 1923, Colby’s father died at the age of 56. His mother remarried that same year. Still, Colby would have been about 14 when this happened, and must have impacted him significantly. In 1938, Colby married Jean Cordelia McConoughey. What’s interesting is that there aren’t any draft records for WWII attached to his profile. This doesn’t mean that he didn’t register for the draft — at 33 he would have had to — but it is a gap in the records that makes my historian spidey senses tingle. Was there a medical ailment that made him unfit for service? In the census of 1940, he was working as a shop foreman, so I can’t imagine that he had a job that would prevent him from registering. I’m sure the record just hasn’t been attached yet, but it does make me wonder more about him.
Colby had one child, Ardis, and sadly outlived her. She passed away in 1999 to his 2000.
Since I couldn’t find any mention of Robert in Colby’s family line, I’m guessing they were school chums. Close enough for a 17 year old to hold on to a postcard for nearly 100 years.
I haven’t seen the kettle on the picture but expect it is supposed to be scenic.
Don’t play too much tennis and give my love to “Bertha”. We’re having a lot of fun.
Ernest
In 1928, Calvin Coolidge was president, alcohol was illegal, and no one knew it quite yet, but the “Roaring Twenties” was coming to a close. Amelia Earhart was still alive, and Mickey Mouse made his debut. The age of entertainment brought to us by screens was beginning. It’s shocking how far it’s come since then.
Perhaps it’s because this postcard comes from 1928, perhaps it’s the joke about tennis and “Bertha,” perhaps it’s simply that there is a full picture postcard of the “Kettle” which appears to be a cauldron decorated by forest loving witches (or if you’re an ACOTAR girlie, by Elaine). BUT, this whole postcard feels like it could be straight out of the Great Gatsby. All that’s missing is a pier with a green light, fancy parties, and the most beautiful shirts you’ve ever seen.
East Ellsworth is a small town located in Pierce County, Wisconsin. Apparently, the train companies couldn’t build in Ellsworth proper, so they set up a depot about one mile away. This became “East Ellsworth.” At least, according to the internet. As far as I can tell, “the old kettle” doesn’t exist any longer, though it certainly looks like it used to sit on a quaint camp/hiking area. Maybe Ernest was there on a camping getaway with family, or maybe hanging with friends? Hard to know, but we know he thought of Mabel.
Mabel Setz was born on January 21, 1907 to Robert Setz and Eda Langlot Setz. At the time of this postcard, she would have been 21, and by the census of 1930, she was working as a book keeper at a local company. I wonder whether she worked by choice or by circumstance, since the stock market tanked in 1929. However, her parents were mid-sixties. Since she was the youngest, and still living with her parents, it makes sense that she might have worked to help with expenses. Mabel married Melvin Henry Else in August of 1936, and passed away in March of 2004 at the dignified age of 97.
As for Ernest, unfortunately I couldn’t find him. Without a last name, it’s fairly difficult unless he happened to be attached to the family in some way. He was neither brother, cousin, or husband. So whatever Ernest’s relationship to Mabel may have been must remain a mystery to us. I won’t lie, whenever I’m researching postcards between young people, I always hope to find out that they ended up married. I suppose it’s the hopeless romantic in me.
Maybe Mabel and Ernest suffered the same romantic fate as Gatsby and Daisy (though hopefully without the murder…), maybe they loved each other, but could never quite find their way to be together. Maybe, they simply remained friends. Whatever the case, I hope Ernest finally got to see the Old Kettle while in Ellsworth.
“The (old?) Kettle” Tourist Park, East Ellsworth, WIS.
First, I want to give a huge shout out to Gemma at The Seafood Picnic Gift Company for this postcard. She sent the image to me about a week ago and we had fun trying to dissect what all of the innuendo might mean. I apologize in advance that I cut your thumb out of the card!
Second, what’s wonderful about this postcard is that it’s from Northampton, UK. I love this so much, but I don’t know postcard lore, nor have I tried to research outside of the United States. But, there’s always a first, so thank you again for giving me the opportunity to share this amazing card.
My guess is this card stems from around 1915, but it could date as early as 1902 and as late as 1930. For those of you who have been around for awhile, you might be thinking “but the divided back began in 1907!” You’d be right — for the United States. The UK introduced divided back postcards in 1902, a full five years before the US. Seeing as the image on the front is late 19th and early 20th century attire, and seeing as the handwriting is still flowery, I’d guess this was written 1902-1915.
I also think it was written by a man. Partly, because honestly a ladies handwriting would be significantly better (sorry dudes). Also, there’s a weird innuendo going on in the whole card. There’s the front of the card, which says “methinks the lady doth protest too much” (which smacks of Baby it’s Cold Outside“), and the vague (threat?) of “Do you like this, if so don’t have to much.”
I wonder what the card is actually asking Miss Ekins. Does she like what…dancing? Being forced to dance? The sender? Gemma thought maybe it’s a strange affair saying something to the effect of do you like me (the sender) if so don’t have too much (dancing with other men). I think it could be something like do you like dancing? If so, don’t have too much (liquor).
And what of D. Ekins? I found a decent match. A Mary Dolly Ekins lived in Northamptonshire and married John Bennett in 1919. The dates and places seem to align with our D. Ekins, and I’m inclined to think this may be her, but I’m not confident enough in my research abilities to say that it’s more than 50/50.
It feels like a long shot, but let’s say this is our Miss D. Ekins. She was born in 1888 and passed in 1926 at only 38 years old. This is a tragedy, as she was taken both too young, and only a few years after her marriage. With the date of 1919, I have to imagine the marriage was put on hold due to World War I.
Also, if this is our couple, could it be that John sent the card to D during the war? Perhaps he’s imploring her not to dance too much while he’s away? It’s hard to tell since both the stamp and the postmark are missing on the card. But it’s an interesting story…if it’s true.
What do you think? What vibe or story do you get from the card? What could the sender be implying? Let me know!
Front of Card: “Methinks the Lady doth protest too much.”
May 8, 1945 was a momentous day for the Western World. In the lead up to this day, we were nearing the end of the storm that was World War II. With the knowledge that allied forces were advancing on Germany, Adolf Hitler took his life and effectively ruined any hail mary on Germany’s part. And, on May 8, 1945, the Allies accepted Germany’s unconditional surrender.
This was Victory in Europe day.
Which is likely why the date was added posthumously, perhaps by Mrs. Zoegler herself. As historical dates often do, when we wake up and go about our lives, we don’t imagine that particular day will become important. But, of course, some days are filled with significance, and this was one of those days.
After hitting such a jackpot yesterday, I decided to choose a card that I’d been holding off on, particularly because I had the feeling that the research would be difficult. Not only is this card not postmarked or addressed, but the two people involved are obscured beneath their initials. However, we still have the clue of the card itself: an image of the City Investing Building in New York City, so that’s where I started.
Surprisingly, I found a few Zoegers. One family in Illinois even seemed promising, though not promising enough for me to be confident in telling their story. Alas, we will never know about the trip they took, or who K.B. may have been. My instinct tells me that K.B. may have been a neighbor who dropped a card into a mailbox when they saw their neighbors were back. From what trip? We won’t know.
But, perhaps that’s not the story this postcard is supposed to tell. Maybe, this card is to remind us that eventful days are just like all the others. They stream in and out of our lives like spider silk. It’s only once we step back for a moment that we can see the huge web of significance that tells our own stories.
Front of Postcard: Image of the City Investing Building
Hipstory 