The Doubletake

Bulgarian Herb Tea

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Sat, 10 Nov 2012 16:30:00 +0000

If you don't want "to find yourself sick-a-bed during the holiday season," you might want to think about heating up your chilly blood and warding off colds and flu with some Bulgarian Herb Tea. Well, maybe. Because as is so often the case with vintage medicine ads, what you see is not what you're going to get, precisely.

Bulgarian Herb Tea and Bulgarian Herb Tablets were manufactured by the Marvel Products Company of Pittsburgh between about 1915 and the mid-1930s. One 1925 ad states that men would derive "Vigor Health and Strength' from the tea, whereas women would enhance their "Beauty Complexion and Class." It wasn't just for when you had a cold, it was something you drank so that "you will know what real vigor and happy health is."

And a 1924 ad in The Pittsburgh Press mentions that in addition to its other uses, Bulgarian Herb Tea was a "wonderful herb laxative tonic." You were supposed to take it "once or twice a week" (suggesting that it was pretty powerful stuff) and then prepare to see your eyes sparkle, your skin glow, and your mouth telling all your friends to hurry down to the chemist's and buy their own box of tea or tablets.

Henry H. Von Schlick, head of Marvel Products, seems to have created his "Blood liquid medicine" around 1914 (The Spatula, vol. 21 1914, p. 563*). In 1920, H. H. Von Schlick called his miracle tea Bulgarian Blood Tea, and had ads such as this one printed in the papers, detailing how he looked 35 at age 50, and this was because of the remedy an "old Bulgarian" had given him 20 years before. It contained "just pure herbs of marvelous medicinal and curative power gathered from fields, mountains and valleys of Europe, Asia and Africa." And the youthful Mr. Von Schlick was apparently a common sight around Pittsburgh, "visiting prominent business men" while clutching a satchel full of tea. He was greeted with great cries of delight by all the rejuvenated businessmen, apparently.

So what was in this amazing tea? The 1928 ad on the right does list several herbs and roots and seeds. Another, more objective list of ingredients comes from a judgment against Marvel Products from 1934, which charmingly pits the "U.S." not versus the Marvel Products Company, but "v. 72 Packages of Bulgarian Marvel Herb Tea Compound."

The verdict: this stuff was "misbranded." Which will not surprise you, I'm sure. The Bulgarian Herb Tea was analyzed and found both to contain large amounts of Epsom salt, and "was not of Bulgarian origin." Here is what it did contain: 10.3% Epsom salt, senna leaves [purgative and laxative], uva ursi leaves, sassafras bark, licorice root, dog grass, elder flowers, lavender flowers, fennel seed and anise seed.

Epsom salt, which is usually used externally as a bath salt, was sometimes taken internally as a laxative or purgative. Uva ursi, also known as Bearberry, is a diuretic and also a traditional herbal cure for urinary tract disorders. And dog grass is one of many names for what is most commonly called couch grass - it was also used to treat urinary disorders and as a diuretic. In other words, this was not going to cure your cold.

Want to see more ads and images? Check out Mr. Von Schlick's statement to the "People of America" here at Old Ads are Funny claiming that his tea was a great help during the 1918 flu epidemic. In 1904, prior to his Bulgarian Tea adventures, Von Schlick was the manager of the Commercial Oldest Accident Company of Pittsburgh, as you can see here (his ad is on the back of the pin, and you have to click the image to see it fully).

*Via Google Books - in snippet view, unfortunately.

Walking to School in Grip Sures

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Thu, 11 Oct 2012 20:00:00 +0000

This is a Sponsored post written by me on behalf of Insurance Hunter for SocialSpark. All opinions are 100% mine.

Grip Sures were (according to this 1924 ad) the absolute best school shoes anyone could wear - anyone, of course, being a boy. Because boys were the ones who ran around baseball diamonds and schoolyards - while wearing fashion-forward flat caps, mind you. These early sneakers were made of duck cotton uppers and “rough springy rubber” soles with suction cups, so when you were walking to school you could really spring across those puddles from last night’s rain, then play a few bounce-heavy games before the morning bell. And the quicker you could walk to school, the more time you’d have to show off your Grip Sures.

These days, most kids are driven to school, and don’t walk at all. If you have school age kids - however they get to school - you’ll want to check out Insurance Hunter’s survey on driver safety in school zones. The survey questioned parents in Ontario and Alberta whose children are between the ages of 4 and 14. Did you know that over 75% of the surveyed parents have seen drivers disobeying traffic laws and driving unsafely in their school zones? That is a lot of potentially dangerous situations for children and adults alike. So naturally these parents worry about these drivers talking on their cell phones, not stopping for crossing guards, and not slowing down in school zones.

Unfortunately, as the Ontario School Zone Safety Survey results show, schools don’t update parents enough with information about drop-off/pick-up areas. Consequently, these areas can be quite chaotic. Crowded, too, when you consider that nearly ⅔ of the parents surveyed drive their children to school. This is totally the opposite of my experience 40 years ago going to elementary and high school. Absolutely everyone walked to school - usually with parents in tow - up through the 6th grade. In 7th and 8th grades, II took a city bus downtown to school, but when the school moved closer to where I lived, in grade 9, I started walking again. I always liked doing that; a walk gives you time to think about things, and see what’s going on in the neighborhood, and of course it’s also great exercise. Even if you’re not sporting Grip Sures.

Please do check out the survey and lots of additional tips and articles about cars and auto insurance, too, by visiting InsuranceHunter.ca.

Socially Submerged

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Wed, 10 Oct 2012 20:14:00 +0000

What was it that kept him socially submerged?

Tall - slender - good features. An interesting talker - an excellent dancer. Yet somehow he seldom held the interest of any girl for long. He was fairly popular with men - but girls would look him over carefully and then just as carefully overlook him.

Yes, we can see the girls carefully overlooking him in this dramatic advertisement from 1926. He is as out of focus to them as the strange little painting - seemingly of a fuzzy, ghostly egg - that hangs, ever so slightly crookedly, over their heads.

The problem? He has "grimy-looking skin." Also blackheads. Oh, and his complexion is dull. Basically his face is in need of a complete overhaul.

And that's where Pompeian Massage Cream comes to the rescue! It works in a rather strange way, though: you rub it into your face and then, the ad says, it "rolls out" and brings the dirt with it. Pompeian Massage Cream was created and first sold by pharmacist Fred W. Stecher in 1901 and was designed as a "rolling cream." The addition of casein to the cream meant that it separated into little balls, picking up the dirt and grime on the skin as it was worked into the face. You can read more about this at the link, where there are some more excellent ads, too.

I hope this guy makes sure that all the little Pompeian Massage Cream balls are gone and not still sticking to his face, though, next time there's a party. Because if he doesn't, he will still be "socially submerged," no doubt about it.

A Community Coffee Palace

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Fri, 05 Oct 2012 05:01:00 +0000

This is a Sponsored post written by me on behalf of Aviva Community Fund for SocialSpark. All opinions are 100% mine.

Have you ever heard of a community improvement of the VIctorian period known as a coffee palace? They were a phenomenon in Britain and Australia in the late 19th century as a community response to taverns and bars, and were sponsored by the temperance movement. These weren't mere little coffee shops, you see - they were grand, beautiful, uplifting places to spend time in, and drink delicious coffees in. The coffee palace often also offered hotel accomodation for travellers, ballrooms and meeting rooms: in other words, true community centers.

Often they were old gin palaces that were refurbished by community organizers to cater to a non-drinking clientele. All in all, a splendid idea, I think - I wish we had coffee palaces that looked like these places, today. An 1882 book* on coffee palaces notes that one in the East End of London called the Edinburgh Castle offered "hot coffee, strong tea, rich cocoa, a warm room, to-day's papers, a hearty welcome [and] an irresistible charm even for the most abandoned." You can see from the picture of the Melbourne Coffee Palace in Australia that these were truly amazing places.

Today, A viva Communi ty Fund aspires to help create equally amazing additions to local communities. It is an annual charity event that’s funded and supported by Aviva Insurance. Their mission is to create and encourage change and growth in local communities by funding grassroots projects created by people in the actual community - people just like you and me, in other words.

How do you get started? It's really simple. You go over to the Aviva Community Fund site and register there. Then submit your best project idea - feel free to use photos, video and anything else you think might really make your entry come across well. And of course, don't forget to get your friends and neighbours voting for you - it will make you all feel as warm inside as a cup of coffee on a cold day.

This is such a cool idea and I encourage you to get involved. You can learn even more about entering the Aviva Community Fund charity contest, and Like Aviva Community Fund on Facebook. Follow @Aviva on Twitter, too.

*E. Hepple Hale, et al. Coffee Houses and Coffee Palaces in England (1882), p.18.

A Cup of Koko

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Wed, 03 Oct 2012 21:21:00 +0000

Ad from 1891, bigger version here

Wouldn't you like to Surely Increase the Growth of Your Hair? And wouldn't you also like to Positively Stop Hair From Falling Out?

Koko for the Hair would let you, the modern woman of the 1890s, do all this and more - even while you were out riding a horse and holding a Koko banner.

But it was not only for women - according to this 1891 ad, Old People, Middle-Aged People, Young Men and Young Ladies all liked Koko.

It was made by the Koko-Maricopas Comapny in London and they were, as companies are, exceedingly anxious for you to rush out and try their product. On the left side of the picture of the lady admiring herself in the mirror, it reads "Now is the Watchword of the Wise." Now, right now.

But wait, you might be asking - what is in this stuff that I'm about to slather on my head? Well, luckily this ad from 1890, which also features the mirror lady and the horse-riding lady, has a long explanation about Koko. The Koko-Maricopas were, said the Koko folks, a tribe of Native Americans living in New Mexico, who wore their hair long and luxurious and never ever cut it. They are now known as the Maricopa, and are known for their pottery and baskets; more about them here.

The ad copy went on to add the basically the Mariposa had the best hair ever because they used the same stuff that was in Koko, on their hair. It wasn't sugar of lead, or nitrate of silver, or grease, or a dye, that's what it was (said the 1890 ad copy). But what was it? Hairquackery (where there is another terrific Koko ad) notes that it was analyzed by the British Medical Association (probably sometime in the 1890s, or a bit later). They noted that Koko was mostly water, a little bit of alcohol and glycerin - plus a smidge of borax and formadehyde. Oh dear. Perhaps the Watchword of the Wise is not Now, but Never.

Felix Mendelssohn's Lonely Hearts Club Band

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Fri, 28 Sep 2012 13:54:00 +0000

I usually write about pre-1930s ads over here, but I'm making an exception (I have just decided this) for weird, intriguing ads that are a bit later than that. And this one, from a 1967 Billboard, is precisely that. And since I like gratifying, inexpensive luxuries, too, I wanted to know more about the JBL Movement and their T shirt which celebrates the Mendelssohn Quintette Club of Boston. Could this be a classical version of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band? That Beatles album came out in 1967, too. Let's investigate...

There was indeed a Mendelssohn Quintette Club of Boston, in the 19th century; they were active from 1849 to 1895 (and here we are, back in the Doubletake's time period). They were about the most popular chamber music group in America at the time, and the splendid photograph of them - which now I see appears on the T shirt - is from Wikipedia, and was taken in 1849.

And JBL was the abbreviation for James B. Lansing Sound Inc. They made loudspeakers, so the Mendelssohn T was a perfect promotional item for them - as well as being quite good fun for people to wear. Because this amazing T shirt was not only a cheap luxury but - and this is a quote right from the ad - it was going to Elevate Your Social Position. Truly, a magical T shirt.

So now I really, really want to find one of these Mendelssohn T shirts. I love interesting graphic T shirts, vintage ones in particular. I have a red 1960s T shirt featuring a local garage that I sometimes wear around the house (it is not in the best shape) much to the dismay of my dear family. There are places where you can get custom shirts toronto - so maybe they could recreate the Mendelssohn T for me. That would be so cool. I might just take this ad to a toronto tshirt printer and see what they think.

A Remarkable Balsam

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Mon, 24 Sep 2012 16:25:00 +0000

LJ Vintage Ads

Do you have a cough or cold, or possibly some bruises, sprains or sore muscles? Or perhaps you are sporting a couple of mosquito bites, like I am right now (I don't know how they managed to get through exercise pants without me seeing or feeling them but they did, the wily little creatures). Well, all you need is one little bottle of Dr. Haynes' Arabian Balsam.

You can also give it to any horses you had who had aches and pains. Or colds. You can dose yourself with it or rub it on - or both. It is very versatile.

And if you need more proof, just see how happy and vibrant Dr. Haynes looks.

Still not convinced? Consider this: you will get directions for use in French, Italian and Portuguese (not Arabic though, unfortunately). This is sure sign that a Victorian patent medicine is really very special.

According to a booklet by Francis D. Donovan called The Hartford and Dedham Turnpike in Medway (1995), Dr. Haynes was a minister in the Hartford, Connecticut area in the 1840s. Alas, the booklet is only available in Snippet View on Google Books, so that is about all I know. I could start looking him up on some genealogy sites, but I'm going to leave it at that for now. I think we can all manage without knowing the exact family history of Dr. Haynes, right? Good.

Haynes' Arabian Balsam was first produced in 1850. In 1916 the manufacturers were fined $20 for false advertising. They were claiming in that year that in addition to its being good for colds and sore muscles, the Balsam could also cure blindness, deafness, diphtheria and a lot of other things. There are vintage Arabian Balsam ads from as late as the 1930s, so I guess that $20 fine didn't slow them down too much.

There's more about J. Miller and Sons, and E. Morgan and Sons, who sold this stuff, right over here. And over here at Anesthesiology Online.

The Prince of Pariahs

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Thu, 30 Aug 2012 17:34:00 +0000

"It is better to be safe than snubbed."

Yes, yes it is. But Marvin doesn't know that. And he doesn't even know that he is being snubbed. Even though he is the Rudolph Valentino of the 1920s New York business world, where there was "no abler man in his field." The ad doesn't say what that field is, exactly. But we know one thing: it isn't dental hygeine.

Because you know what else Marvin doesn't know? That people are calling him "the prince of pariahs." Poor Marvin. Whatever could be the reason?

Is it because he is smoking a pipe at the beach and looks like a doofus?

Is it that razor-blade patterned robe that he made out of a throw rug he found in the servants' hallway?

Or is it the striped beach ball he insists on carrying around with him all, all the time?

No, those heartless flappers are glaring at poor old Marvin because he has the worst breath in all of Coney Island. Also Jones Beach. Pretty much all of greater New York, really. And that is a "damning, unforgivable, social fault." It is also "a definite daily threat to all." Not just to Marvin, either. Everyone is under siege. And what he needs, you may have guessed, is Listerine and plenty of it. Please, somebody put on a gas mask and go tell him. And while you're at it, you might want to suggest he quit hanging out with that beach ball.

Spearmint Gum and Story-Writing

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Thu, 23 Aug 2012 18:41:00 +0000

1914 ad from Vintage Ad Browser

Here we have a man who leans perhaps a bit heavily on chewing gum. He has even acquired a package as big as he is, to protect him from indigestion, to assure him of an appetite and - oh, ugh, TMI - to stimulate saliva. Goodness gracious, sir, we really truly don't want to know all that.

I was going to make some sort of chewing-things-over analogy here, but am going to skip it. Let's just call this an update, shall we?

So anyway...I'm trying to figure out which blogs to keep up* and which to gently put to one side because - well, for two reasons. One is that I'm doing more freelance writing which doesn't have anything to do with the blogs. And the other is that I am slowly figuring out exactly what kind of creative fiction I have always wanted to write, and am doing it, too. I tried Camp NaNoWriMo for a little bit this month and you know, at this point a novel is not what I want to do. But what grew out of that literary hiccup was a linked-stories project that's been floating around in my GoogleDrive for about a year.

I don't even know what to call these stories but they are a weird mix of fairy tale/alternative fiction/genealogical stuff/the jumble of images and memories and things in my head that have always seemed too anecdotal and dream-like for regular stories.

I am not sure whether having another (yes, another) blog to support this writing is a good idea or not. Or whether my history blog could morph into that, since they are sort of New York City stories too. Anyway, a lot of my time is going to reading tons of folktales and history and doing research - and, why yes, writing.

I have a ton of old ads I want to write about, though. And autumn usually gives me an extra shot of energy (I am an autumn/winter girl for sure) so - watch this space, et cetera.

*Because I've been blogging now for over 4 years and you can really get burned out, you know?

A Small Bottle of Lilac Imperial

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Thu, 09 Aug 2012 15:44:00 +0000

Actually, I choose all three Colgate shaving products. This ad is from 1916, and I love the designs of all three boxes. Although if I was absolutely pressed to choose, I'd go with the shaving stick box on the left. The guy has such a look of dreamy distraction, as he gazing somewhere into the distance at something no one else can see. I also like the way he has swathed himself in an enormous white towel just to shave.

The point being (oh yes, there actually is a point in here!) that it can be awfully hard to choose between different things you need to buy. And it also can be hard to find them at just the right price, because unfortunately 1916 prices no longer apply. Sending 6 cents in stamps will not get you a trial bottle of anything nowadays - never mind a free "small bottle of Lilac Imperial."

So what if you could set your own price for the things you want to buy? Sort of like bartering, but from the comfort of home. You know what? You absolutely can. Because right now online there's a kind of modern marketplace where your can name your price for something you want to buy, and then be able to get it, too. You can just say what you want at the price you want for products and services at Galoo.com. It's a virtual negotiation platform that lets you communicate with sellers - just name what you want to pay, and wait for Galoo's network of sellers to make you some great offers. Maybe you'll even get a small bottle of Lilac Imperial - or something equally delughtful! Do check it out and see what's on offer, and join as either a buyer or a seller, or even as both.

Seagrave's Dachshund and the 1920s Berlin Police

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Wed, 01 Aug 2012 02:37:00 +0000

Post brought to you by Insurance Hunter. All opinions are 100% mine.

Imagine trying to get a proper Auto Insurance quote for this strange-looking bullet-shaped racing car from 1927. It was owned by English racer Major H.O.D. Seagrave, who was just about to attempt a world speed record with it in Daytona Beach, when this photo was taken. He did it, too. He was the first to go at a speed of more than 200 miles. You’ll also be glad to know that he was the first racing driver to wear a helmet while he was doing this. It sounds like a rather natty helmet, too - it was made of white leather.

Or how about getting an insurance quote for this charming vehicle used by the police in Berlin in the 1920s. It had five drivers (plus one in the sidecar), and was not (shall we say) a typical car. It was something between a car and a motorcycle, with room for a search light, emergency rescue equipment, and even a spare tire. They would also have been well served to get a bit of insurance for this vehicle, because you have to admit, it looks a little bit tricky to steer.

If only Major Seagrave and the Berlin policemen had lived in the age of the internet, they might have gone to Insurance Hunter, which is an online, free access insurance brokerage. Simply fill in a short questionnaire and Insurance Hunter will give you 3 Car Insurance quotes, all tailored to your precise needs and wants. I went over there myself and tried it - it’s quick and efficient, and a great way to choose a selection of the best insurance deals for your particular situation. You do have to be in Ontario for Insurance Hunter, alas, but if you are in Ontario do go and check it out. They can help you out with auto insurance - even if you own a racing car that looks, in the words of the item in the May 1927 Popular Science, like a very large silver dachshund.

A Dangerous Cold Remedy

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Fri, 27 Jul 2012 16:58:00 +0000

1925 ad ( LJ Vintage Ads)

If President Coolidge and his Cabinet seemingly suffered from colds all at the same time. And therefore were tossing around quite a few Chlorine Kilacold Bombs while Congress was in session back in 1925. That is a sight I'd give a lot to see.

But what is this all about - chlorine gas being a great cold remedy? It seems so strange and - well, dangerous, really. The Chlorine Service Corporation of New York was quoted in a leaflet (which you can see right here) stating that "inhaling Chlorinated-Air" was just the thing for colds, bronchitis, the grippe, sore throats and probably everything else you might have going on.

As you know, chlorine is used to keep water clean and germ-free - in swimming pools, for example; drinking water is treated with it, too. A solution of chlorine called Dakin's solution, however, was used during World War I as an antiseptic for wounds.

But chlorine gas was actually used as a weapon in the same war. It is toxic and quite detrimental to the respiratory system. So I doubt that breathing in loads of it was the best way to combat the common cold.

The ad on the right is from the Duke University collection, Medicine and Madison Avenue - there's a big version at the link.

The Wonderful Foso Treatment

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Tue, 24 Jul 2012 19:53:00 +0000

I suppose that this is Hair Care Week at the Doubletake - I've been finding all kinds of wonderful ads for hair restorers, hair dyes, switches and wigs, and of course potions to prevent and/or cure baldness. This 1910 advertisement, courtesy of a gentleman named J.F. Stokes from Cincinnati, amused me - I thought it would amuse you, too. Because what gentleman wouldn't want to look like a Cavalier with a barber-shop-quartet member's handlebar mustache? And ladies, it really is the height of fashion to wear three cottage loaves'worth of hair in big buns perched right over your forehead.

J.F. Stokes wrote a book called The Foso Remedies: A Certain, Rational and Pathological Treatment that Makes Hair Grow, published in 1903. A 1903 ad tells us that Stokes was a "celebrated physician-chemist" at Altenheim Medical Dispensary; and that everyone from Mlle Riva, the French contralto to George N. Thatcher, a "Prominent Railway Official," were growing thick, dark, curly hair on their heads like nobody's business, all thanks to Foso. It seems to have been called Foso because the main ingredient was Foso Bark - from a tree called Cinchona Officinalis, or Quinine Bark tree. It is native to South America and used to produce quinine. Thus it was often used as a treatment for malaria. How it ended up in Stokes' hair treatment, I don't quite understand.

Cinchona offiinalis or Foso bark

In any case, he was happy to send everyone a free $1 package of his miracle hair treatment. Happily, these days, you can get really excellent hair care and other products to try out as free samples by mail or as free stuff online. It is truly as easy as clicking your mouse, checking out all the great free sample offers, and deciding what you want to try. You can even find deals on things like free cell phones - it's quite fun to check what's out there. I've been checking, too. I have a few samples of salon shampoo and conditioner I'll be trying out pretty soon. Not quite as mysterious as Foso, but then I don't want to look like a cavalier or triplet cottage loaves, either.

Harlene For the Hair

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Sat, 21 Jul 2012 17:22:00 +0000

Edwards' Harlene was famous for its advertisements featuring women with long, luxurious, wavy hair. The black and white ad is from the British publication The Strand (vol. 2, 1891) and the color ad is probably also from the 1890s. Edwards & Co. was located at 95, High Holborn in London. Mr. Edwards, aiming to impress consumers, had appointed himself "the eminent Royal and Court Hair Specialist."

In some ads it is called Instantaneous Harlene and had two purposes: to grow more of it and to restore its color. It was also good for "weak and thin eyelashes," though one might hesitate at putting hair lotion into or near one's eyes - even in the 1890s. And even though "Physicians and Analysts pronounce it to be perfectly harmless and devoid of any Metallic or other Injurious ingredients."

In 1910 the Edwards Comapny brought out a product called Harlene Hair Drill, which sounds a little bit brutal. Apparently, the Drill consisted of powders that were to be rubbed into the scalp twice a day. According to this advertisement in the Australian paper The Argus in January 1910, the Hair Drill took only 7 days "but each day is marked by a wonderful improvement" in the thickness and health of your hair. Dunn Hair has an image of the cover of the "Harlene Hair Drill" booklet from about 1920, which claims that it is "the Secret of Healthy Hair!" The happy couple on the cover both have fashionably short hair - a far cry from the massive wavy lengths worn by the people in the 1890s adverts.

And what exactly was in Harlene? John Winter of Snake Oil Surprises writes about Harlene after having discovered a vintage Harlene bottle; apparently, it was mostly water with a dash of alcohol in it, according to the British Medical Association who analysed the stuff around the time of the First World War.

Despite this, the Hair Drill was still going strong as late as 1929, when the ad on the left appeared. And the Edwards Company was still in business as late as the 1930s, when they published a booklet entitled 'Your Hair and What It Means to You."

The 1929 ad is from the splendiferous LiveJournal Vintage Ads site.

The Victorian Candid Camera Necktie

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Tue, 17 Jul 2012 18:54:00 +0000

In 1891 you might have been amazed by the newest invention for the modern, science-minded private detective: the Photographic Necktie.

It was the brain child of Edmund Bloch, a French photographer with a flair for devious fashion. This necktie, you see, concealed a small working camera within its silken folds. The camera itself was "very flat and very light," according to Scientific American (Jan. 3, 1891). You worked the shutter by squeezing a rubber bulb, hidden in your pocket, which was attached to a thin tube connected to the camera. The little round lens was supposed to look like a tie-pin, I think.

Its purpose? To capture the images of people who approached you, without their noticing. Although wouldn't they hear something like clicking and whirring coming from within the nether regions of your cravat? Would this not be a sort of give away?

Never mind, though. It is just the sort of thing Sherlock Holmes or - better still - M. Hercule Poirot ought to have worn. And it would be perfect today, too. You could take all sorts of pictures and then use a Vistaprint coupon to make up promotional materials and illustrated business cards for your detective agency. just look at the kind of images M. Bloch was able to capture! Do you think those people knew they were posing for a papparazzo disguised as a necktie? The gentlemen in the middle and on the right seem to be highly aware of this. I don't know about the woman on the left, though.

Unfortunately, in 1891 there were no GeekAlerts and you didn't get your science news daily, telling you all the latest science and tech news. There was no way to access amazing discount coupons and promo codes for online stores and services. But today you can do all those things with just a few clicks of your mouse. And you don't have to conceal any scientific devices in your cravat to do so, either.

Glenn's Sulphur Soap

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Fri, 13 Jul 2012 16:04:00 +0000

This dramatic Before and After ad for Glenn's Sulphur Soap dates from 1887, and promises the consumer trouble and blemish-free skin that is "lithe, firm...and smooth as satin." It was produced by C.N. Crittenden [sic] of 115 Fulton Street, New York. If you look closely, you can see that the lady is smiling a little bit more in the After picture - which is entirely understandable.

Ads in the Brooklyn Eagle from the mid-1870s are not illustrated, but stuffed full of dramatic, almost Gothic prose. They state that Glenn's Sulphur Soap "cures skin diseases by its specific action on the capillary vessels which have become morbidly impressed by their impure contents" by using sulphur as a "counter irritant influence." I am sure that most people with dandruff never knew that their capillaries were morbid and no doubtbrooding on their impurities.

This all sounds rather rough on the scalp, but sulphur was often used in skin creams and lotions in the 19th century; it may actually be helpful as an antibacterial agent.

Charles Nelson Crittenton (1833-1909) was a druggist who grew wealthy through manufacturing patent medicines such as Glenn's Sulphur Soap. Hair Raising Stories notes that Crittenton purchased several medicine and hair product lines such as William Hill's Hair Dye (which is often advertised along with Glenn's). Over here you can see a revenue stamp (private die stamp) for Glenn's and Pike's Toothache Drops, another of Crittenton's line.

C.N. Crittenton

Crittenton was concerned with other impurities besides those of the skin. He is best known for founding the Florence Crittenton Rescue Homes for Girls (i.e., for "unwed mothers"), as well as the Florence Night Mission for reforming and helping prostitutes. They were named for his daughter, who had died at the age of 4, from scarlet fever. They are still around today, helping girls, women and families in many different ways.

Glenn's Sulphur Soap was still being sold in the early 1900s, by which time it was also being promoted as a "specific"* for "parasitic scalp and skin diseases" and a cure for dandruff. If used as a shampoo and scalp treatment, it would "[revive] the hair roots" as well.

*A specific is a cure for a specific malady, and is a term used in homeopathic medicine.

No More Baggy Knees: The Trouser Stretcher

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Tue, 10 Jul 2012 16:27:00 +0000

These advertisements appear on the same page in the New York humor magazine Puck in 1886. The Patent Portable Trousers Stretcher was supposed to perform an ironing function as well as get rid of baggy knees and "restore [trousers] to their original length and shape" - heaven only knows what they looked like. You could pack the Stretcher in your carpet bag and take it on business trips, too, which was very handy.

The Harvard Trouser Stretcher ad is much , much smaller and is located on the left side of the page - John Hamilton and Co. really dominates, and if you were a gentleman looking for the perfect iron-that-isn't-an-iron, you'd probably go for the one that had multiple pictures and had even won a Silver Medal at the 1884 London International Exhibition.

The Harvard Trouser Stretcher, on the other hand, has only the Ivy League name and a small line drawing of a man with a top hat and cane to recommend it. It also has the (dubious) merit of calling the device a "Toilet Adjunct" - which is wonderfully loopy and Victorian.*

There is a charming ad for the Hamilton Trousers Stretcher here at the British Library Online Gallery.

*Of course this is meant in the sense of "Toiletries" and the toilette, rather than the loo. I have just found some more wondrous ads by using this phrase as a search term, so that is another benefit right there.

The Victorian Curtain Negligée

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Fri, 06 Jul 2012 16:17:00 +0000

NYPL Digital Gallery

Be glad you live in a T shirt and shorts world in the summertime, instead of in, say, 1865. That's when the fashion picture on your right appeared and it's there to tell you ladies what you should wear in the morning when you're lounging around the house. Note: you must not wear this sloppy, intimate sort of outfit outside! It is called a Morning Negligee for a reason, you know.

Negligee is French for "neglected," and it first was used as a fashion term in the 18th century to describe house/lounge wear for women, specifically things that could also be considered nightgowns. It wasn't until the 20th century that the word negligee took on a lacier and racier meaning. As you can see, this particular illustration is neither lacy nor racy.

It does look a bit - curtainy, though. As if Scarlett O'Hara, after making the famous green velvet dress* from her old curtains, had seen a few more drapes hanging up - maybe in the back kitchen - and had a little lounging outfit made up at the same time.

The Curtain Dress from Went With the Wind

The text mentions that this dress is made of "maize-colored merino, trimmed with a deeper hued or buff plait of silk, and with cords and tassels upon the sleeves or chest." Maize is a deep golden yellow, roughly corresponding to the color of corn, and merino is a soft wool fabric. In other words, you wouldn't want to wear this in July.

*Which really does look like this Morning Negligée...As does Carol Burnett's version of the Curtain Dress in "Went With the Wind" (her 1976 parody of the film, on The Carl Burnett Show), which you can see in a short clip on YouTube.

The Mystery of the Kia Rio

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Tue, 03 Jul 2012 02:43:00 +0000

This is a Sponsored post written by me on behalf of Kia Rio for SocialSpark. All opinions are 100% mine.

Nancy Drew could only dream of an adventure like this. Imagine going on an amazing scavenger hunt that takes you to five fascinating LA landmarks. Like Nancy, you`ll be accompanied by one of your best friends, and you`ll be checking out five historic landmarks in LA. But whereas Nancy only had her little blue roadster to travel in, you`ll be driving a brand new, state-of-the-art Kia Rio that is equipped with all the latest UVO Technology, while staying people-friendly, too.

Kia is sending two sets of best friends on something called the Zip and Dash - a geocaching challenge that takes place at five vintage Los Angeles landmarks. Using all the latest tech features of the Rio Kia, they aim to find Hollywood celeb Christina Milian at the finish line, marking the end of their search.

Imagine what fun it would be to search for clues in places like the 1937 Griffith Park Merry-Go-Round, where Walt Disney brought his children (because he hadn’t invented Disneyland yet). At the Merry-Go-Round, there are trivia questions to answer. After that, the team had to find a Christina Milian CD at the massive, historic record store Amoeba Records, on Sunset Boulevard. Then it was time for a restorative nosh at the wonderfully retro Pink’s Hot Dog stand. On the famously fashionable Rodeo Drive Bess Marvin wandered off and is probably still making her shopping dreams come true - leaving Nancy and George to count the palm trees between Brighton and Dayton Streets. Finally, they will dash off to the historic Roosevelt Hotel and the finish line. I think that the most difficult of the challenges would be finding that Christina Milian CD at Amoeba Records - that place is enormous!

The combination of historic landmarks, geocaching and a scavenger hunt sounds like a lot of fun to me - especially in the state-of-the-art Rio Kia. My favorite feature of the Rio Kia is the Bluetooth system, which makes communication while traveling super easy. You can enjoy watching a about the Challenge (link at the bottom of the post) - let me know what you think! And check out the Rio Explorer Page, too. Doesn't this inspire you to beat Nancy Drew at her own game, with a little modern sleuthing? It inspires me, for sure. I can just see myself and my best friend in a Kia Rio, hunting for mysterious clues in LA - ideally a blue Kia Rio, of course, in honor of Nancy Drew’s little blue roadster.

Mrs. Allen's World's Hair Restorer

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Mon, 02 Jul 2012 21:00:00 +0000

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a person in possession of a balding head must be in want of a hair restorer. That is just what Mrs. S.A. Allen (and plenty of other enterprising Victorians) counted upon when she introduced her modestly-named World's Hair Restorer.

Mrs. Allen was a New Yorker who, sometime in the 1840s, "dislik[ed] the idea of going grey," according to one of her ads, and therefore invented "something" that was not a dye but was something even better, that restored color and moisture to the hair. It affected the roots of the hair, she claimed - though she never explained quite how this was achieved.

In addition to the Hair Restorer she sold a hair dressing (pomade) called Zylobalsamum, which was suitable for women and children as well as for balding men. Fun fact: Mark Twain named one of his characters Zylobalsamum, in The American Claimant (1899). Another character, on hearing this name, says "I never heard such a name. It sounds like a disease. Is it a disease?"

Clergymen in particular appreciated her remedies, and their testimonials fill her ads. Reverend A. Webster of Boston wrote with succinct pleasure, in the 1864 ad on your left, that "I am now neither bald nor grey." Clergymen would be seen as reliable sources of information, easily believed in an ad. And they would very often be balding or greying, too. Perfect friends for Mrs. Allen. She gave discounts to them, too, and noted that her Principal Depot and Manufactory was at 355 Broome Street, New York "opposite Dr. Cone's Church."

Dr. Cone's Church, at the corner of Broome and Elizabeth Streets, was also known as the First Baptist Church. His 1855 obituary in the New York Times tells us that he had had "a checkered career." Born in 1780, Cone had been an actor when he was young, and then a bookkeeper for a newspaper in Baltimore. He then worked in the Treasury Department in Washington. Finally, he became a Baptist minister at age 34, in 1814. I haven't seen him in any of Mrs. Allen's ads extolling her Hair Restorer, though.

Broome St. Baptist Church, NYC [NYPL Digital Gallery]

An 1855 advertisement stated that the World's Hair Restorer not only made your hair thick and full of its original color, it also "will strengthen and preserve the SIGHT, and remove and prevent Dizziness, Headache, Scurf, Dandruff, Scald-Head, or any Eruption of the Skin, and all unnatural Perspiration of the Head....[and] It is a certain Cure for Catarrh in the Head."

In 1872, Benjamin Godfrey wrote in his Diseases of Hair that Mrs. Allen's hair cure contained acetate of lead, sulphur and glycerine just like most other "common hair cosmetics of the present day." These included Rossetter's Hair Restorer, Hall's Vegetable Sicilian Hair Renewer and the literary-sounding Melmoth's Oxford Hair Restorer - which were identical to Mrs. Allen's. Oddly, Godfrey did not think that putting lead on your hair was a bad thing, because (he said) there wasn't very much lead in any of them.

However, in 1870 the Chicago Medical Journal (vol. 27, p. 474) reported that English chemist Henry Matthews had analyzed an 8 ounce bottle of the World's Hair Restorer and found that it contained 75.6 grains of sulphur and 87 grains of acetate of lead - which would produce lead poisoning in a regular user and "in many instances has caused incurable paralysis" through absorption via the scalp, as well as the inhalation of fumes from the lotion. They also cited the case of a Dr. J. M. Witherwax from Davenport, Iowa who had been in the habit of dousing his hair and whiskers with "a popular hair restorer" over a long period of time, and died from lead poisoning that was most likely the result of this practice. Much better to be grey or bald, isn't it?

Dr. Von Breemburg and Co.

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Wed, 20 Jun 2012 19:34:00 +0000

UCLA Library Digital Collections

Before the First World War, it was a plus to have a German doctor - real or fictitious - standing behind your patent medicine. The German physician was seen as a professorial type, educated at Heidelberg perhaps, with a wealth of knowledge and European sophistication.

For example, as Brooks McNamara points out in Step Right Up, a history of the American medicine show, the German Medicine Company "was an extensive operation supplying a hundred [medicine] shows at a time with Teutonia, Germania Oil, Berlin Corn and Bunion Cure, and several dozen other preparations" [p. 58]. You could dose yourself with a whole range of Germanic-sounding cures, including Boschee's German Syrup, Hoofland's German Tonic and the charmingly named Ham's Oil of Gladness, described in one trade card as "a nice clean and pleasant remedy for the many aches and pains that are constantly occurring in every household" (yes, this is just what I need!). It came with "full directions in English and German accompany[ing] each bottle."*

So when I came across Dr. Von Breemburg's line of remedies, I was intrigued. Unfortunately, the fictitious doctor's ads do not seem to have survived (or at least, they are not online). In any case, Dr. Von Breemburg's Zymotic Shake and Chill Antidote was patented in 1885 by Edwin W. Higbee of Northampton, Massachusetts. He also patented, at the same time, the labels** for a whole line of Dr. Von Breemburg delights: his Homeopathic Bilious Powders, Zymotic Malaria Antidote, Constitutional Zymotic Catarrh Antidote, and Local and Constitutional Zymotic.

Clearly there is a Zymotic theme running through the Von Breemburg series of remedies. Zymotic means fermented, and zymotic diseases were what people used to call infectious diseases such as malaria, which were believed to ferment through the body. So Higbee/Von Breemburg wanted people to know that not only was he a man with all the latest medical terminology at his behest, but that also he specialized in treating things like malaria, typhoid, cholera and diphtheria.

UCLA Library Digital Collections

Edwin Wilbur Higbee was born in Vermont in 1849 and died at Northampton in 1916; he practised medicine in Northampton for "almost half a century," one obituary says. He had been inventing things long before developing the Von Breembug line of remedies. He patented a truss in 1873 which featured "two waist-springs" and "metallic braces near the hips"- which sounds very unwieldy at best. Two years after this, in 1875, Higbee patented an Improvement in Speculums (speculums being medical toold used to examine body cavities such as the ears, nose and throat). And in 1900 he patented an Apparatus for Heating Water.

In 1910, Higbee got into trouble with the Food and Drug Administration for sending some of his Dr. Higbee's Cold Cough and Grip Powders from his German Medicine Company in Northampton, to New York. The medicine was seized by the FDA in January 1910, and analyzed. It was found to consist mostly of acetanilid, which is actually what the wrapper said that it was made of. The problem the FDA had was that this would not "break up a cold," as also advertised on the wrapper. Acetanilide (now spelled with an extra e) was basically a headache remedy that had been used since the 1880s; it metabolizes in the body into acetominophen. Once this was known, acetominophen was derived from it outside the body and is, of course, still used today as a standard remedy for headaches and pain.

SOURCES
Great Britain Patent Office, The Commissioners of Patent Journal (1873), p. 2554.
McNamara, Brooks. Step Right Up (Univ. Press of Missisissippi, 1995).
US Patent Office, Annual Report of the Commissioner of Patents (1885), p. 365 - a wonderland of patent medicines, by the way, all with those wonderfully zany, poetically hyperbolic Victorian names.
US National Library of Medicine, Notice of Judgment No. 962, Food and Drugs Act; Misbranding of a Drug Product "Dr. Higbee's Cough Cold and Grip Powders" -original, digitized documents here, at the USNLM site.
Warner, Charles Forbes. Representative Families of Northampton (1917), p. 331.

*The Oil of Gladness really deserves a post of its own. It will probably get it, too. Also, a tag for German-sounding Victorian potions and cures. Because it's obscure and slightly nutty and therefore fascinates me a fair bit.
**Apparently you could patent the label for something, just as you could patent a trademark.

The Mystery of the Quaker Chill Cake

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Mon, 18 Jun 2012 21:48:00 +0000

Here is a post with less mystery-solving than I had hoped, back when this ad caught my eye. A lot less, in fact.

This 1889 ad says that if I would like to know more about the great malaria cure, Quaker Chill Cake, I can send away for a pamphlet full of testimonials "from the best class of people" - but alas, I am 123 years too late to do so.

Here's what we do know: it really was an edible, cake-like thing. We also know that they were mighty expensive for the 1880s budget: a dollar a cake, or the slightly cheaper rate of six for $5. This 1885 ad says that one cake is usually enough to cure you, and that it "is in the form of a cake, to be eaten just as if it were a cake for refreshment."

They were made (and the name on the label, at least, patented by 1884*) by William D. Groff of West Chester, Pennsylvania - home, coincidentally, of my great grandmother and her family (though by 1889 they were in Brooklyn and probably unaware of the glories of Quaker Chill Cakes). The 1885 ad referenced above states that the cakes were produced by Groff and Co. at 1522 Chestnut St., Philadelphia.

Here's what those cakes did not contain: "one particle of quinine, mercury, arsenic nor any injurious substance." Quinine was the standard cure for malaria until quite recently, so you might have expected to find some in these cakes. It is also found in tonic water, which was drunk in India, by the British during the Raj, as an anti-malarial precaution. The gin that they added to the tonic water was supposedly to mask the bitterness, but it doesn't really - I think that they just liked adding the gin.

An interesting accompaniment to the Chill Cake: a g and t

But apparently there was no quinine in Groff's cakes. So what precisely was in them? I can't find a single hint, not online, not in my library of Victorian Stuff - nothing. I am going to keep looking, because - well, I just really want to know! But I also wanted to post here. And if I wait until I get everything perfect, then it'll never happen.

Next time I might see what I can tell you about Dr. Von Breemburg (he's in the note just below). Maybe I should turn Doubletake into a blog about Victorian strange stuff. If so, I might need to tinker with the name, too - I never really liked Doubletake, exactly. And I could use some focus over here. But we'll see.

*This is curious - the label is the object of the patent, not the actual thing labelled. I don't know why - not yet, anyway. I'll look into it, but I do want to post this! There are many more wonderful Labels patented in 1884 - enough for a whole series on this blog - Pine Tar Medicated Toilet Paper, for example (that sounds invigorating, doesn't it?). And a hair crimping potion called Curleykew. And Dr. Von Breemburg's Zymotic Shake and Chill Antidote, which sounds like a Quaker Chill rival, or possibly something you had to wash down the Cake.

A Road Trip to Historic Pennsylvania

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Thu, 07 Jun 2012 05:13:00 +0000

This is a Sponsored post written by me on behalf of PA Tourism for SocialSpark. All opinions are 100% mine.

It can be really hard to plan great vacation roadtrips when you don't know the area well, or what the best places are to visit. That is one reason why I was so glad to find out about the Roadtrip-a-Matic at pa-roadtrips which makes planning trips really easy.

You want a city vacation? Not a problem. Or maybe, like me, you prefer a rural retreat - you can do that, too. You can browse any number of cool themed trips to take in Pennsylvania - which is a wonderful state. I went to college there, and have family there, and have always enjoyed my time there. But I only really know the little southeastern corner - Philadelphia and the surrounding area, and a bit of Delaware County.

1910 postcard of Harrisburg

Anyway, when I went to the Roadtrip-a-Matic, I picked the Civil War Trails trip, because I'd like to start with a sort of genealogical road trip. My great grandmother was born in 1861 in West Chester, Pennsylvania. And her father was the captain of the West Chester Guards in (Chester County) during the Civil War - and I've never seen Gettysburg, or Harrisburg (which is where he was sent to when he first joined the Union Army).

The Roadtrip-a-Matic Civil War Trails trip has it all: they've organized a route full of places like the National Civil War Museum in Harrisburg, historic houses in Gettysburg and Lancaster, and more - all with maps and hotel and restaurant suggestions. I am especially keen to see Wheatland, the home of US President James Buchanan, just outside of Lancaster. It's one of the many great stops of the Civil War Trails route. Now I really want to get us all in the car and go.

I really recommend the Roadtrip-a-Matic - even if you don't use the exact route, there are lots of tips and travel suggestions that make using it really worthwhile. And please let me know where you want to go! [Images, by the way, are from Wikipedia]

The Yorkshire King of Roulette

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Sat, 26 May 2012 13:38:00 +0000

Joseph Hobson Jagger - possibly a Victorian relation of Mick Jagger's - was a Yorkshireman who went to the famous Grand Casino of Monte Carlo, in Monaco, back in 1873. Lots of people did. But not everyone had a song written about their time there. Jagger did, because he is one of the most celebrated casino winners of all time. He was, in the words of the song's title, "The Man Who Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo." There is a 1935 film of the same name, too, starring Ronald Colman - looking very debonair in the movie poster on your left - and Joan Bennett (who looks a bit glum, perhaps because women in this sort of movie mostly stood behind the gambler and just watched). The title character, though, is a Russian aristocrat, not a Yorkshireman.

Casinos have been around for centuries - the name comes from the Italian for "little house," and they were originally summerhouses on large estates; later, casinos were recreational places in towns where people went to dance, hear music, and relax. But by the 19th century, casino buildings were places where you could attend the theatre, hold meetings - and, yes, gamble.

The beautiful Grand Casino at Monte Carlo

Joseph Jagger decided that he wanted to play the best game of roulette ever. Roulette ("little wheel" in French) is played by placing bets on one of the black or red numbered pockets around the outside of a wheel. The wheel is then spun by the croupier, the casino employee in charge of the game. If the ball lands in the pocket you've bet on, you will win.

In the mid-1870s, Jagger, with the help of six clerks from his cotton mill (I guess he paid to have them go to Monte Carlo, too), analysed the winning numbers on the six roulette wheels at the Monte Carlo Casino. He noticed that one wheel stopped at certain numbers more often than not. So he bet on that particular lucky wheel and starting winning a huge amount of money over three days. The Casino management was not best pleased with this and moved the wheels into new locations. But Jagger remembered a scratch on his lucky wheel, found it in its new location, and carried on. The Casino people then upped their game and started moving other things on the wheel so that it would spin differently. Finally Jagger began losing and wisely took his remaining winnings back to Yorkshire with him, bought property and retired from the cotton mill. How much had he won? In today's money, the equivalent of about 3 million pounds. Isn't that amazing?

Today people who love casinos and the spinning of the roulette wheel don't need to go all the way to Monte Carlo to have a great time, and win some money, too. You can stop by http://www.luckynuggetcasino.com/ whenever the mood strikes, and enjoy a game or two.

An Unusual Cure-All

noreply@blogger.com (Lidian) — Tue, 22 May 2012 16:32:00 +0000

Wikipedia

If you had been a medical student in the Middle Ages, you might have used a picture like the one on the left to study how blood travels around the body. Any good medieval medical teaching course would have emphasized knowing just where the veins were, because blood-letting was an important therapeutic practice. People thought that the only way to release illness and disease from the body was to let out some of the blood.

Bloodletting was practised in the ancient world, too, and continued to be a respected medical practice into the Victorian period. Blood was either taken from the vein directly, or leeches were used. These last were especially popular in the 19th century. Barbers - or, as they were known then, barber-surgeons - were traditionally known as bloodletters, as well as doctors - that is why the traditional barber's pole has red and white stripes on it.

1860 photo of bloodletting (Wikipedia)

The Victorians sometimes used bloodletting as a cure for psychological problems, too. Mental illness was thought by many practitioners to reside in the bloodstream. In the April 1883 issue of Popular Science, the case of a German bookdealer named Nikolai is presented for physicians to use as part of a medical management course or teach the teacher course. Poor Mr. Nikolai had been "disturbed by several melancholy incidents" including seeing ghosts and phantoms both of people he had known, and strangers, too. But "the application of leeches relieved him promptly of his hallucinations."

Happily this is something that no modern consultant interview course will be teaching the doctors of today. Today's medical students learn safe practices, new healing techniques, and interviewing skills - and they don't have to wear top hats like the man on the right, either.