Give Me An S!

From a rummage sale picture frame: lithographed shop display card, cut to serve as backing.

I have not been able to identify when "Star Eleven" brand might have been sold. Except for the slicing, the card is in very good condition, and I have no clue as to when it was printed.

This may not go as far back as "The Freshman" of 1925, but those guys sure look like they could have been on the field with Harold—

A Book Judged By Its Cover

I don't read Czech, but the embossed art nouveau front cover of this 1902 book grabbed my attention.

The back cover has this seal with the publisher's name


An author bust on a title page

does tend to suggest that the contents are considered classic.

Through the magic of the Internet, I've learned that Svatopluk Čech (1846-1908) was a journalist and poet who promoted national and Slavic identity. The Czechs, of course, were still ruled by Austro-Hungary during his lifetime, which was also a period of burgeoning nationalism throughout Europe.

This volume is Čtyři cykly básní (Four poetry cycles), a collection of works Čech wrote in the 1880s. Titles (according to Google Translate) are: Ve stínu lípy (In the Shade of Linden Trees); Jitřní písně (Morning Song); Nové písně (New Song); and Z potulek (unidentfied).

I haven't tried looking for translations of Mr. Cech's verse, so have no idea how it reads today. With all the political and cultural change since 1902, the Czech writers I've been drawn to read in English were writing much later, about a very different world.

But Czech decorative art of the early 20th century was a wonderful thing, as a small sample here shows.

And this unexpected book find is a link to that era.

How To Have Fun And Learn

Cover, 1954 booklet by Armand N. Spitz

The author's name was not familiar to me, but I have learned that it's well-known in the planetarium world.

A non-scientist (who also didn't finish college), Mr. Spitz became an innovator in planetarium design during the 1940s. There's a bio here, and a long article here. And full-scale planetariums are still produced by Spitz, Inc.

From the '54 booklet, printed in Rosemont, Penna.—

FOREWARD
(To the adult or parent)

By the designers and producers of this Planetarium

There are many books written for children which can be and have been read and enjoyed by adults; seldom has the reverse been true. It was with this thought in mind that the author set about writing this book. The subject is not intended for any single person or group of persons. Its language is universal, but we feel that is it especially directed to our children, so that they can learn and appreciate all the wonders of the universe which so many of us have neglected and forgotten in the daily hustle and bustle of life.

...

Armand Spitz long dreamed of a small planetarium which could be placed in every home for the education and enjoyment of both adult and child, but with the problems of developing the large units he could not find the time, nor were his scientific contacts the type which could lead to national distribution through the major toy houses, chain and department stores. It was here that Harmonic Reed Corporation moved into the picture and began working out details of design and production. After many, many months of painstaking development and engineering a unit was designed which would lend itself to low-priced production. The result of this research is the "Spitz Junior Planetarium" which we hope will provide you, your friends and family many hours of real enjoyment.

HARMONIC REED CORPORATION
Manufacturers of Harmotone Musical Toys

As Spitz lived and worked in the Philadelphia area, his ideas must have come to the attention of this particular company. There is something touching in the enthusiasm and educational aims for this product—after all, this was before the 1957 Sputnik launch, and American concern over competing in a space race.

The booklet is a basic introduction to the stars and how to view and identify them. It encouraged kids to practice using the Spitz Junior so they could invite their friends over to see the show.

First step was to remember:

The user needed to read a few pages about the nature of stars. Next, orient himself to the planetarium ["When you sit in front of your planetarium...you are facing North, your back is to the South, the East is on your right...]

Then set the planetarium's axis for the user's latitude:


The booklet goes over stars seen north and south, during each season of the year.

Near the end:

One of the interesting things about your planetarium is that it can be used as a space machine, carrying you in an instant to other parts of the world, where you can see the stars in a different way.

Followed by directions for adjusting the planetarium's axis to change latitudes and travel the globe.

Further suggestions:

DON'T TRY TO SHOW TOO MUCH AT ONE TIME

VISIT PLANETARIUMS WHENEVER YOU CAN

Final suggestion:

...so go outdoors whenever you can, and see how easy it is to find the stars in the real sky after having learned them with the help of your own planetarium. Each night you'll learn some more things, until you'll feel at home whenever you look at the sky, from any part of the world. That's when you'll really understand how wonderful it is to recognize these stars which are so universal and ever-lasting.

Followed by a word from the sponsor:

Ah, the golden age of American small manufacturing.

Was it also the heyday of enthusiasm over pure science?

Why do I have the feeling that today, some similar (if higher-tech) toy would be marketed as: "your child needs this, to get into an elite school and make big money..."

Just Easy With An Iron

The reverse assures us that: "Someil Cut Stencil Paper is made from special study for every one can easily dye handicraft."

And it includes these directions:

For taking away the soil of Someil on the cut stencil paper.

To wipe off with a soaked soft cloth or soft paper by benzine.
To wipe off with a cloth soaked by water.

How very clear!

But I'm not even sure what use was intended for these stencils. Or where that iron comes into the picture.

Pentel in Japan may still make "Someil" oil pastels (although I suspect the ones here are on the vintage side). But it's not clear if it was pastels that were meant for "dye handicraft."

And there's this association of Japanese stencils with dyeing (and some other examples here). But that's its own world of ultra-high craftsmanship.

Whatever this stencil pack was for, it seems to have been manufactured in the late '50s or early '60s–behold the aerodynamic designs!



Pristine, and unsoiled by Someil...

Canada's Most Famous Dessert

Why is the man trying so desperately to outrun the oncoming locomotive?

What treasure is in need of rescue?

Why, it's a wooden crate, filled with


On the one hand, we see the package slogan. On the other, this pamphlet proclaims


This is "Where Jell-O is made"
—though it's not stated where exactly this home is. (I would think it's Le Roy, NY, as the package illustration says.)

This pamphlet was printed 1924: "The Genessee Pure Food Co. of Canada, Bridgeburg, Ont. - Standard Litho. Co. Limited Toronto."

So if Jell-O did not call Canada home, at least the booklet could be offered by the Canadian distributor for that market.

The recipes, both sweet


and savory ("Jell-O Horseradish Relish"), don't appeal to me, a non-fan of gelatin.

But the esteem in which Jell-O must have been held is impressive.

Perhaps it was considered the most modern and scientific dessert. Or maybe the company was just trying to drum up enthusiasm.

But without the pamphlet's suggestions, I never would have imagined how precious a commodity Jello could be.

"THE WEDDING PRESENT"
"SPEEDING FATHER'S JOURNEY"
"AT GRANDMOTHER'S. THE JELL-O HOUR"

Omedeto Gozaimasu!

It's New Year's Day, in a 1958 Japanese "twelve months of the year" children's reader.

More literally, the title is something like, "Society [or, public life] through the twelve months." The book actually begins in April, with the start of the school year, and covers the milestones of the year for children and families.

The full-color, detailed plate above is one of only three, in this book of mixed illustration styles.

Covers:


Endpapers:

The text is illustrated in a spare, woodcut-like style, in limited colors. So the other New Year's activities include traditional games (and a giant pot of mochi):



This is just over a dozen years since the war's end, and most Japanese families are still fairly poor. The book looks like it was produced cheaply, but the couple of cheerful full-color plates do seem to signal that life is getting better.

One More

Another piece of calendar art, for the Year of The Tiger.

And great tigers, they are.

Take our January model—


Though I'm not completely sure about those Ukrainian habitats of theirs...

Happy New Frate Indovino!

My sister, J., received this piece of unsolicited matter, which she recycled to me.

It was enough to make me promptly break the rule I had just set about posting "vintage" printed matter.

Though this is the latest version, the publication itself does go back, first appearing in 1946. The original and subsequent covers are displayed by year at the calendar's site. (There's also a selection of covers at the site's main page.)

Although I first thought the Santa Claus-like figure must be an imaginary character, Frate Indovino was the nickname of a Capuchin brother who dispensed folk wisdom, herbal remedies and astrological predictions, along with soliciting funds for the order's missions in the Amazon.

After learning of the publication's existence, J. had fun researching it (and sent me all the links below).

At the very end of a 2002 National Catholic Reporter column, "The Word From Rome"—

...there is a push on in Italy to canonize a Capuchin known as Frate Indovino, who died recently at 87, and whose name roughly translates into English as "Brother Fortuneteller." His claim to fame was an annual calendar he published for almost 60 years, beginning in 1946, which sold some six million copies each year. It featured uncannily accurate predictions of the future. Most concern when to plant seeds or prepare the harvest, but they were occasionally more sweeping. Frate Indovino claims, for example, to have foreseen the fall of the Berlin Wall. How? He studied star cycles in an observatory near Florence, in addition to drawing on a 14th century monk known as "Black Spider" who developed a theory about the sun's influence on the atmosphere. In other words, he used astrology, though each prediction was verified by an inner voice that he recognized as his guardian angel. Frate Indovino was thus, to invoke a theological label, a model of syncretism, blending elements of pre-Christian folk religiosity focused on the stars with traditional Catholic spirituality. It's fascinating that nobody in authority seems troubled by this, in a moment in which fear of syncretism involving Christianity and Eastern religions such as Buddhism and Hinduism is the Vatican's top doctrinal concern. But, as I have repeatedly said in other contexts, if you're looking for a perfectly consistent religion, the Catholic Church isn't for you.

And a writer in Milan says—

...what has always intrigued me about the Italian calendar market is that if every year, the starlets bare more...they still can't beat a defunct priest.

Frate Indovino ("brother fortuneteller") passed to the other side in 2002, but sales of his folksy calendar still outstrip the rest. The popularity of the calendar, first published in 1946, is homespun wisdom rooted in daily weather forecasts -– the calendar first gained popularity with farmers in Father Mariangelo’s native Perugia in Umbria for the accuracy of predictions. The secret sauce was said to be a 15th-century manuscript from the monastery archives.

The calendar, which sells between six and eight million copies yearly in Italy and abroad, dispenses pearls of wisdom like: "Since onions produce tears, chop them in moments of political or emotional turmoil" as well as recipes, folklore and proverbs. Sales of the calendar, which retail for about $5 each, fund the order’s missionary works.

This year's theme: "Our Crazy, Dear Italy." Celebrating 149 years of Italian 'unity' [quote marks are the artist/author's]. A fond look at "typical Italian behavior," with cartoon animals standing in for Italians.

For January:
A nervous Mr. Bear notes the "imbroglio" over his diagnosis. And Dr. St. Bernard responds: "It's a good sign the patient recognizes his dilemma!"

With the saints' days included in the calendar (below the monthly cartoon)—maybe divine intervention will help those crazy, dear Italians!

The almanac does seem to be a big part of the country's popular culture.

There's a facebook page.

And Italian photoshop artist Gian Boy 2 presents this version of the good brother. The artist also portrays model "Ricky" as some other interesting personae [but some are NSFW or airports]—in this set.