Hi Folks,
We are vacationing here for a week — high up in the Catskill Mountains. Place is charming and expect to have some good rest so we can go back to working hard at filling(?) up our “home sweet home”. Food is so good it will show on me when we return. How was your vacation?
Do Write,
Elsie and Chad(?)
To: Mr. (or Mrs.) Millman Linn Jr. From: Aunt Emma, 1907
This is our hotel. March 17th.
Aunt Emma
The Chalfonte Hotel in Atlantic City, New Jersey was built in 1868 near the corner of Pacific and North Carolina Avenues. However, in 1900 it came under new ownership and was expanded. It was the first iron framed hotel in Atlantic City, but maintained the original structure by simply moving it to the west and re-cladding it with brick. It’s this hotel that we see on the front of this postcard.
Interestingly, the hotel was moved closer to the beach twice, because the incoming tides continued to bring sand onto the shore. Part of the appeal of the Chalfonte was both it’s access to the railway and access to the beach. By the time a more sturdy boardwalk was built, the Chalfonte was well positioned to reap the benefits.
Miraculously, I was able to find both Emma and Milman Linn Jr. This was one of those serendipitous Hail Mary sort of finds, as I finally threw “mellman linn jr” into google and an obituary of Milman Linn III popped up. Once I found him, I was able to trace the family line (all of whom lived in Zanesville, Ohio) until I found Emma.
I believe Aunt Emma is the maternal aunt of Milman’s wife, Jennie (Jane) Milman, (nee Smith). Which leads me to believe that this card is actually addressed “Mrs. Milman Linn Jr.” Not “Mr.” Let’s start with Emma and I’ll work my way to the Milmans.
Emma Allen Dodd was born January 11, 1842 in Zanesville, Ohio. In 1884, at the age of 42, she married Robert Hoe Dodd and had two children, though only one survived infancy. She lived to be 85 years old, and died in 1927. She’s buried in New Jersey.
Her niece, Jane (Jennie) Smith, was born June 12, 1870. She married Milman Linn Jr in June of 1900. Something that’s wonderful about Family Search is that on occasion, the family has done their own research, or left their own memories for the deceased. This particular recollection was left and I couldn’t help but quote it here:
Jane Davey Smith Linn was ironing on the main floor, or the maid was, when a rat was heard gnawing at something in the cellar. She gathered an arsenal of croquet balls and surprised the rat by entering from the outside steps. How a woman unaccustomed to athletics managed to throw a wooden ball hard enough or straight enough to knock out a rat, is difficult to imagine. But she did just that, either stunning the rat or badly maiming it, and immediately finished it at closer range with a broom handle. Her son Vincent expressed grave concern over the contaminated croquet balls, but Jane assured him she would wash them in scalding water.
It’s stories like these that breathe life into the subjects of our postcards, and I can imagine the fire Jennie smiling broadly when she received this postcard from her Aunt. Unfortunately, Jennie died young. She passed away in 1911 at the age of 41.
Milman Linn Jr comes from a line of Milman’s. He was born on May 15, 1860 and lived to be 80, dying in 1940. He did not remarry after Jennie, rather two of his sisters came to live with him. Presumably in a symbiotic relationship where they helped him with the house, and he provided for them. Milman was a somewhat prominent pottery manufacturer (according to his obituary) and thus his death warranted a short newspaper article remembrance.
Despite Jennie’s early death, it’s lovely to see a tight knit family who seemed to love each other very much. Also, it’s wild that Emma, Jennie, and Milman were alive either during, or directly after, America’s Civil War. I love being able to uncover the lives of the subjects in my postcards, and I’m so glad to have this Friday find.
To: Mrs. E. Peck From: Mrs. Wanack, 1935
Tues 6, 1935
Driving over this highway to-day it is beautiful thinking of you,
Mrs. Wanack (or Wamack)
In 1935, Franklin D. Roosevelt was president, “Black Sunday”, a devastating storm that ravaged the dust bowl, took place, the WPA (Works Progress Administration) was created, Babe Ruth appeared in his last career game, and the Barker Gang (including Ma Barker) were killed in a shootout with the FBI. Prohibition may have been lifted, but it’s effects were far reaching.
The Multnomah highway and adjoining Benson Bridge were built between 1914-1916. The footbridge shown in the postcard gives up close access to the falls — the second tallest year round falls in the United States — while the highway takes motorists across the creek. It’s one of the most photographed historical structures in Oregon, and it’s easy to see why. Even in black and white the image is breathtaking.
Despite being smack in the middle of the Great Depression, people still had cars, and they still enjoyed driving those cards to see America. From only this postcard, we can’t possibly know if Mrs. Wanack was visiting family, or simply on vacation for fun, but the views she would have seen are clearly breathtaking. It’s also touching that she thought of Mrs. Peck on the bridge.
As often happens when researching, I struggled to find these women. With only last names, it’s fairly impossible. Especially somewhere like Los Angeles. There were a multitude of Pecks, many of them women, so it’s hard to say who was our Mrs. E. Peck. I went through a large number of them, hoping I could find a married sister with the last name that matched or was close to Wanack. Alas, no luck.
I hate not finding a first name for women obscured by their husband’s last name. However, it’s clear the two carried a strong bond of friendship, and at least we can tell that story. May you all find bonds of sisterhood today.
Multnomah Falls, Oregon
From: Unknown To: Lloyd Hubbler, 1911
Oh you kid: I’d enjoy another dance with you like the one I had at the Dickeyville dance. Would like to make a date with you, “You Honey Bunch”. Will try and be out for the 15th. Hope you will be there, dear. Will show you another good time. Oh honey I am so lonesome. From – you know who.
(flipped) Look under the stamp honey bunch. xxxxxxx
This is my picture honey.
(On front) I am ready xxx. From your sweet little wife. S.W.A.K
God am so home sick for a x x
Lloyds sweet wife ha ha
I can’t express to you how much I am obsessed with this card. Every inch of it is filled with writing. X’s dot the landscape of both the front and the back and someone added additional rouging and eyeliner to the image on the front. This postcard SCREAMS of some sort of joke, and I am absolutely here for it. So, let’s drop the card into history.
1911 sees the disaster of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory in New York, the invention of Crisco, and the founding of the first movie studio. However, I have to wonder if the news of these events hit the small village of Potosi. Situated in the southwest corner of Wisconsin, modern day Potosi boasts a population of just over 600 people. Like many small towns, it was originally founded as a mining and farming village. Now, it hosts an annual catfish festival and fish fry the second weekend of August.
In 1911, Lloyd Hubler was a few months shy of his 20th birthday, and at least according to Family Search, still unmarried. He had one brother, who was 8 years his senior. Although the card puts Lloyd’s last name as “Hubbler”, I’m pretty sure it was “Hubler”. The Lloyd I found has a father named “William Scott”, but he’s listed as Scott W. in the census records. Seeing as the card was sent “c/o Scott Hubbler”, and the Hubler’s lived in Harrison County (where Potosi is located), I’m fairly certain I have the right man.
But birth days, death days, draft registrations, and the marriage index provide only the barest amount of context for a life. Who sent this card to Lloyd? Why? There are a few clues that we can use to point us in the right direction. Or at least to make some fun and semi-guesses.
First, the card was sent on February 16, two days after Valentines Day. My mind immediately goes to two scenarios. First, maybe there was a Valentines Dance for the surrounding area. Here, Lloyd met a girl and made the gravest mistake: he told his friends about her. Looking to pull a prank, they put together this card and sent it to him, care of his FATHER for added embarrassment.
Second, Lloyd’s older brother was 28 at the time. It’s possible he sent the card as a practical joke, but why would he misspell the name? It’s feasible the name is actually misspelled in the census records. But, while I think it’s possible Lloyd’s brother had something to do with the card, I doubt it was entirely done by the brother.
So, poor Lloyd had to deal with the embarrassment of being sent this provocative card. Because it was a postcard, everyone could see everything. Not only could his father see the card and read it…but so could the postman, the postal workers…you get the idea. What did poor Lloyd do to deserve this humiliation? We will never know.
Lloyd did end up finding his “sweet” wife. In 1918, he married Leora Hinman. They went on to have three children. She outlived her husband by a decade, but I hope that their life together was S.W.A.K.
Miss Y. Kassel, 1909
This is from “square” head. Still living but have not much time to knock around.
Holly (on front of card)
November, 1909 was a momentous month in New York. As is often the case, especially in the early 1900’s, tensions amongst the working poor were brewing, and from a faction you may least expect. On November 24, 1909 — so only a few days after Square Head sent her lovely postcard to Miss Kassel — the largest strike in US history up to that point in time took place.
20,000 garment workers, many of them shirt waist factory workers (yes…THAT shirt waist factory, but more on that later), walked out. Their demands were echos of our own: better pay, better hours, safer working conditions, and unionization. History is, of course, cyclical. Because most of the striking workers were women, there was little attention paid to them at first. However, when a few wealthy women joined the cause, factory owners slowly bowed to the women’s demands. Despite resistance and interference from owners, the strike largely worked.
The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory, however, was a little different. The owners did provide better wage and better hours, but they stopped short of unionization — which meant a lack of protection for these women. This culminated in the tragic Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire in 1911.
Now, it’s impossible to know if Square Head and/or Miss Kassel were part of the garment industries, but they would have known about the strike. If they were women who worked in any sort of industry, which I think it’s safe to say that Square Head probably did seeing as she had not much time to “knock around,” (my new favorite saying, by the way), then it would have impacted them in some way. Remember, this was a time before women could vote, so a strike that garnered better working conditions for them was an important step in the suffrage movement.
Aside from the historical context, there’s so much to love about this postcard. From the moniker “square head” to the rural photos of Hershey Cows (I like to think both ladies loved chocolate), to the hurried greeting.
However, I think one of my favorite things about this particular card, however, is how *human* it feels. The square in “square head” is drawn in such a way that the reader can see the direction her hand took. The reader can also see the mistake in “still”; the “s” covering up whatever was written before. Square Head was probably in a rush, or perhaps her mind was ahead of her hand and she began a sentence she wasn’t quite ready for. Undeterred, she clumsily corrected the mistake and continued on in her quick note to her friend. You see it again in the “c” of knock. It’s something so little, but brings the postcard — and the woman — to life in such a tangible way. I love it.
Front of postcard depicting Hershey cows. You can also see the name “Holly” on the top right corner.
Mrs. William Kerchner: 1943
Pvt. Charles P. Kerchner
Dear Parents:
How are you all. I am O.K. and hope you are the same.
A simple message scrawled quickly in pen on the back of a beautiful postcard opens a door for us to understand a little more about postcard history, as well as World War II history.
When I began this project I knew nothing about the history of postcards in the United States or abroad. I’m still lacking in my historical knowledge, but I’m also learning with each post I create. One simple piece of information I’ve recently stumbled upon are the different “eras” of postcards.
By roughly 1930, “linen” type postcards had begun to circulate. These postcards have a different look and texture than the early 1900’s postcards. In fact, it may suprise you to find out that they look like they are printed on linen (shocking I know). The colors on these postcards also tend to be more vibrant and saturated. This postcard is no different. While the back is somewhat nondescript and not quite as pretty as some of the earlier postcards in my collection, the front is so beautiful it could be framed as a watercolor painting.
I assumed the “free” written in the stamp section had something to do with the fact that this is a soldier sending a postcard home to his family. A brief google search revealed that by World War II, if the soldier wrote his outfit and camp (along with the word “free” in the stamp box), then the postage was comped for him.
Another notable aspect of this postcard is the stamped “GIVE: Red Cross War Fund.” I have a few of these from postcards sent during WWII, but I find them fascinating reminders of a different time.
This is also the first postcard where I feel confident I’ve found some information on the original sender. Private Charles P. Kerchner survived the war, married, raised a family, and died in 2008 at the age of 87.
A lovely piece of history from a bygone era.
Front of postcard. Note the blues and yellows and pinks that serve as the masquerade of a sunset.
From: Suzie A. Radley To: Mrs. E.G. Richardson, 1909
Adams, MA. Sept. ’09
This is your birthday. Many returns of the same. Went up this road awhile of weeks ago with Nathan Dickinsons daughter Ruth (17) and son Boyd (13) in a cart with four horses. Such a long winding road in the woods and such a magnificent view from the summit as well as many on the way. William comes in a week. I am not very much better but some.
Yours,
Suzie A. Radley
In September of 1909, news reached the world that both Dr. Frederick Cook and Admiral Peary had reached the North Pole, the United States passed a law that allowed postal workers to skip houses with aggressive dogs, and union members were locked out of their jobs at the Triangle Shirtwaist Company.
It was also E’s birthday. How old she was, or what her first name was, I don’t know. I wasn’t able to find her easily in the records. However, we know that Suzie was thinking of her, which I think is sweet.
On my hunt for information to bring to this post, I really ran into a wall. I couldn’t find a Suzie or Susan or Susanna Radley, I couldn’t find E, I couldn’t even find Nathan, Ruth, or Boyd Dickinson. Usually I can find something, but alas, no luck for me.
Although I don’t have biographical information for our main characters in the post-card, the card itself provides quite a bit of personal and life information. As you can see, the writing was on the front of the postcard, not the back. Again, we have an instance of a transition period postcard. It was legal to split the back, but for whatever reason Suzie didn’t use a divided back card.
Because the photo is so small and because Suzie didn’t have to contend with a divided back, we get a lot of details that we can use to infer other information. The fact that she went on a carriage ride through the woods with a 17 and 13 year old tells us she’s probably somewhere between 15-19. I’d guess she’s closer to Ruth’s age — since that’s who she named first.
The ride through the woods probably took place in the waning days of August. The idea of it is lovely. A warm ride through a shaded wood with the crisp scent of fall on the horizon. Perhaps a bag full of bread and apples, and the joyous chatter of fellow teens to keep you company and a “magnificent” view at the end. What a great way to spend the last bright days of summer.
We also know that Suzie was expecting William. I am guessing he’s a brother or cousin, though I couldn’t find him either. My questions linger on the relationship between E and Suzie. Were they friends, cousins, or sisters? Was Suzie visiting Adams for the summer months, or did she live there? It’s the personal histories that fascinate me. The everyday lives of ordinary people that simply tried to do their best with what they had — it’s heroic. I wish I was able to find more.
But I’ll still bask in the thought of Suzie’s perfect summer day, and hope that E’s birthday brought her much joy and happiness.
To: Miss Annie Earl. From: AS(?) 1915
I wish I could send you more than a (unreadable)
In 1915, Woodrow Wilson was president, the United States began it’s occupation of Haiti, the Lusitania was sunk by a German U-Boat, and the United States recognized the new Mexican Government as a de-facto government.
This is one of the few cards I have that’s from a true resort town, and I love the vibes of it all. By 1915, Atlantic City was already a destination city, bringing in over 500,000 people by rail every year. At this time, the boardwalk was over 7 miles long, and an array of large hotels sprawled along the ocean, some capable of holding up to 2,000 guests. I have to assume that the sender of this card was in Atlantic City on vacation, though, of course, they could have been a seasonal worker.
As beautiful as the card is, it’s a tad frustrating because there’s simply not much information. The last word is illegible (for me), and even the sender’s signature is nothing more than scrawled initials. I do have the name “Annie Earl”, but even that led to a dead end. There were many, many, Ann’s, Anna’s, and Annie’s that fit the time frame — and while I have a suspicion of which one or two might be correct, I don’t feel confident enough to write about them. So, I’ll leave you with some theories.
My first guess is that this is one of two types of card. Either, from one sibling to another, or from one friend to another (with a possible romantic entanglement since that’s how I role). My gut feeling tells me this is probably an older sibling writing to a younger one. Maybe they were working in Atlantic City but couldn’t send money, or maybe they simply didn’t have enough time to send a full letter.
My less prominent theory — but perhaps more fun one — is that this is a beau writing to his girl. Maybe he was down on his luck and had gone to Atlantic City to earn some dough and that didn’t go through. Maybe he wanted to get enough money to marry. I genuinely don’t think this is the case, but since I’m left with little information, it’s fun to think about the possibilities.
Either way, it’s a beautiful card with elegant and sweeping handwriting. It feels like there’s a cool breeze drifting in from the ocean, and I envision the sender quickly writing out the letter on the boardwalk, squinting their eyes against the sun. What a lovely memorial to a July day.
“Scene at the Inlet”
To: Miss Tillie Seedorf. From: Stella Ford. 1907
Dear Friend.
I received your postal O.K. It was very pretty.
Yours truly,
Stella Ford
As you know, 1907 and 1908 are some of my favorite years to collect postcards. I’m particularly drawn to period in history that are transition years — where rules are not yet fully written on how to deal with a changing landscape. It’s small, but the switch from un-divided back postcards to divided-back postcards feels like a space where rules aren’t quite clear yet. This particular card notes that if it’s to be sent abroad, it can only be used as the address to the sender. Even though a place like England got rid of the divided back earlier than the United States.
The theme for this week seems to be “young friends,” which I’m perfectly content with. I think so many of us forget that young children and teens have ALWAYS been young children and teens throughout history. Their brains developed roughly the same as ours (not accounting for environment). They struggled with adults and loved their friends, even when those friends were far away.
In something that’s close to a miracle, I’m pretty sure I found both girls, though I’m a little dicey on Tillie. I don’t have a lot of information for either of them, though. It’s one of those situations where the trail runs cold because I won’t pay my way past an information wall. But, allow me to introduce them to you.
Stella Ford was born on June 10, 1892, the third child of four children born to Benjamin Ford and Hulda Wells. When she sent her postcard, she would have been 15 years old. In 1916, she married Charles Kinney. I don’t have record of children between the two, so I’m unsure if the record is true, or if the children simply aren’t attached.
Tillie was a bit of a more difficult find. There were Seedorf’s living in Kanakee in 1907 and beyond, and I had to do some family tree digging. However, I finally found (what I think is) a match.
Mathilda S. Seedorf was born on March 25, 1885 to Friedrich Seedorf and Mary Mueller. She was the third child, but first daughter to the couple, and one of 8 children. She doesn’t appear to have married, and died relatively young: October of 1931 at the age of 46.
What’s interesting about her record, is that there’s a probate document attached. When her father died in 1920, she received an $8000 inheritance. The inheritance is one of those cold, black and white facts that carries a lot of weight. I can’t possibly know exactly what was going through her mind, but we can know that there was grief, possibly loneliness, and maybe even anger.
What is clear, however, is that Stella Ford and Tillie Seedorf cared for each other. This card is beautiful, with colors that are vibrant and descriptive over a hundred years later. I hope Tillie and Stella maintained a friendship for the rest of their lives.
“Strengthening rows prone from the mountain run. The flocks–their fleeces glistening in the sun.”
To: Mrs. HM. Maurey From: Roy 1908
Drive safe and in good condition
Roy
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
Hipstory 