I've Been Posing On The Railroad ...

... not "all the livelong day" surely!

The cabinet card, imprinted "Boston Railroad Photo Car", which I took to mean a passenger car outfitted with a studio, was quickly confirmed by a Google search: photo cars with large glass windows, studio, darkroom, display gallery and living quarters were used on southwestern transcontinental routes from 1884 to 1900; the Boston Railroad Photo Car toured the southwest to California in 1891, so this young girl could have lived anywhere along the route. There were four cameramen on staff and the demand for portraits was reported to be heavy in those thinly populated states  – the claim was for more than 20,000 negatives! Certainly the negatives were developed en route, but were the prints delivered while the car was on location or were they mailed to the client at a later date?

She poses in an up-to-date dress of plaid wool adorned with ribbons and bows that may have been a personal addition; her straw hat has a fancy woven brim and more typical bows. The photos of young girls of this age have a directness and guilelessness that represents a time in life that is so brief.

The original is shiny albumen, so faded that it is almost ghostly, glued to a thin 4.5 " x 6.5" card with deckled edges, printed rather than embossed, all marks of relatively low cost to the sitter. No one took the time to write her name on it, but we do know the date!

The battered faux masonry prop could stand some repairs it will probably not receive.

A Portrait Dissected

A portrait taken by Tuttle & Son of Belfast, Maine, early 20th century, this pose is marked by the subject's indirect gaze and hand on hip, the contrast between white skirt and blouse and nearly black finish on the ornately carved Victorian chair which encroaches upon her shoulder in a manner that causes you to ponder the position of her arm – is it behind her or behind the chair? This is furniture for effect and not comfort, the sort of chair a woman would perch on but never rest her back against.

After the flamboyant fashions of the 1890s, women's fashion gave way to softer, bloused, draped lines that drew attention to the face and hair rather than the figure, but then often ruined the effect outdoors with impossibly large hats. This cabinet card is an example of a trend in which the photo is a narrow oval instead of rectangular, part of the move away from contrived backdrops (the figure within a space) and a focus on the subject alone, whether three quarter length or bust. In a few years the chair would have been considered unnecessary.

Her expression is pensive and private, yet if she had smiled and looked into the camera it may not have been nearly so interesting to the viewer – some mystery is more beguiling.

Jumping On The Bandwagon 1890

It's a bandwagon in the literal sense, a wagon for transporting a circus or parade band – they had been around since the early 19th century. They only began to be used to attract attention at political rallies in the 1840s, whence came the expression "jumping on the bandwagon" to mean someone who attaches oneself to the excitement of a campaign without considering the issues.

This bandwagon is certainly built for the purpose; though it has the scrolls, bosses and scallops, it isn't the elaborate polychromed and gilded, over-the-top affair we usually associate with large commercial traveling circuses (certainly there is no ornamentation on the wheels to distinguish them from any common wagon). So this may be a local parade wagon, either for a July 4th celebration or a political rally. The uniforms are modestly trimmed – only two members have the gold braids we associate with circus attire. The second set of horses are somewhat smaller than the lead pair. The man at the reigns is merely the driver, so he doesn't get to toot his own horn, and he doesn't look like he really cares.

Many towns had bands for patriotic community events, fairs and entertainments (I have several photos that show bands at rallies for police and fire tournaments).

Bull a la Cart

Gosh fellows, I don't suppose you could afford a horse! On the other hand, no self-respecting nag would be caught dead hitched to that gig anyway, so it's just as well.

What we have going here is some kind of late Victorian Popular Mechanics do-it-yourself weekend project: Make Your Own Two-Wheeled Cart From Firewood in A Single Day. The baling wire patch-up on the wheel is a little much don't you think – that's what duct tape is for. And we'll pretend we didn't notice the chimney – that's just way beyond rustic.

There was a period in the late nineteenth century when the idea of roughing it meant making everything out of limbs and sticks. Folks in three piece suits and silk dresses put stick furniture on the porch, and chairs fashioned from the antlers of half a dozen elk were the height of cool. Their contemporaries who were still making do in sod houses and covering their walls with newspaper must have thought, "You people are nuts!" 

The only thing this photo proves is what every wife knows – leave a bunch of boys to their own devices, no matter what age, and nothing good can come of it. Well, nothing that makes much sense anyway.

But who knows better how to have a really good time? Their only mistake is that they made a record of it. Sure made my day!

Uniformed And Uninformed

Eager dealers are quick to assume that all males in uniform from the 19th century are Civil War soldiers, all the more because of the mania for such photos and the prices they bring. But it doesn’t make sense considering that the war period comprised less than 5% of the years of the century, there were four other major named conflicts, protracted wars with native American tribes, and there were many educational academies that featured military discipline and uniformed students (my grandfather was a teacher in such a school in Virginia in the early years of his career). Experienced collectors of militaria are not misled by such claims.

Civil War soldiers liked to be pictured with arms and equipment and some studios may have obliged by keeping such gear on hand, which explains why an eager new soldier might go straight from induction to the portrait studio before weapons issue or training; and certainly some recruits died from accident or camp diseases before ever having any practical soldiering experience – but not before sending that coveted photo home.

The insignia on this young man’s kepi-style cap looks like it might be the superimposed letters N and A, which fits the academy proposition. No other patches, insignias or buttons would make you think he is dressed in national military uniform.

The cabinet print was taken by Vanderbilt Portraits, Barlow Block, Sing-Sing, NY. It advertises that “Pictures are made by the new Instantaneous Process”. All photo exposures have been virtually “instantaneous” since the invention of practical commercial photography, so if this refers to the time that elapsed between the click of the shutter and delivery of the finished print, this is an egregious example of advertising exaggeration (even a fully developed polaroid print was hardly instantaneous even though it rolled out of the camera a moment later).