Relaxing at the Spa

 

Life is full of thousands of little indignities. Slipping in a bathtub is no joke. But wallowing in a tub full of muck is definitely funny, though it's not an activity you would usually share with strangers, much less friends. In this cartoon postcard a naked man has tumbled out of a mud-filled bathtub and plainly needs some assistance to get up off the floor. 

Once upon a time many people who suffered from assorted disorders and maladies were prepared to endure bodily insults and embarrassing humiliations just in order to find relief from what ailed them. A century ago, taking a cure at a health spa was a recommended therapy but sometimes it got a little messy. This card's message reads:

Gruss aus dem Schlammbad Nenndorf
Greetings from the Nenndorf mud bath

The slapstick humor pictured here was produced by the German artist Arthur Thiele (1860 – 1936), whose clever postcards mocked German society and army life from the 1900s to the 1920s. I've featured Thiel's artwork in quite few stories on my blog as I find his quirky perspective still entertaining and relevant in our modern time. 

 

The card was sent from Bad Nenndorf, a small town in the district of Schaumburg, Lower Saxony, Germany, on 15 May 1911. Since ancient times Nennforf's sulfur springs were feared as the devil's excrement because of their foul odor, considered the most pungent in Europe. In the mid-1700s physicians developed ways to apply the sulfurous spring's mud as a treatment for rheumatism, arthritis and other muscular and skin complaints. In 1787 the Landgrave Wilhelm IX of Hesse-Kassel built a spa on his estate between Gross Nenndorf and Klein Nenndorf. The spa's Schlammbad—mud bath treatments were so successful that in 1866 Bad Nenndorf was designated as the Royal Prussian state spa. Since royal families seem to have had lots of chronic health issues, the restorative regimen at Nenndorf made it a popular holiday destination in the pre-WWI era.

 

 

 

There are many places throughout Europe that have mineral springs which in previous centuries were developed into resorts for their supposedly therapeutic qualities. Mud baths in particular were derived from ancient folk knowledge of treating illness with natural materials that sometimes produced cures, or at least relief. The formal word for this therapy is Balneotherapy from the Latin word balneum – "bath". Ancient Romans were fond of their bath and established many European cities based around natural mineral springs which later became spas for treating diseases by bathing, hence the German word Bad for bath. 

 

 

My next card shows another therapy associated with spas – a massage. In this case a naked fat man is being pummeled by an masseuse using a little too much force. The caption reads: Eine kitzliche Angelegenheit. ~ A ticklish affair.  Another printed title identifies this as Karlsbad,a spa city now known as Karlovy Vary  in the Czech Republic. But before the end of WWI it was part of the Austrian empire as the city is named after Charles IV (1316–1378), the Holy Roman Emperor and King of Bohemia who founded the city in the 14th century. The area has numerous hot springs and in the 19th century it became the largest spa resort in Europe, patronized by European aristocracy and other celebrities. 

This cartoon postcard was the work of Viennese artist Fritz Schönpflug (1873–1951) who is another of my favorite artists. This is the fifteenth story where I've featured some of his lighthearted watercolor sketches. The card has a postmark from Karlsbad of 8 July 1912.

 

 

Karlsbad is west of Prague and, roughly as a crow flies, about 250 miles northwest from Wien (Vienna), Austria or 180 miles south of Berlin. Fritz Schönpflug produced quite a few postcard series on spas which I plan to feature in future stories. I don't know if he ever indulged in treatment at one, but  evidently Fritz got special permission to observe some of the unusual ways a person could be embarrassed at a spa.

 

 

 

In this sketch a woman is on rinse cycle after a mud bath. She stands naked in a copper tub while a female attendant uses a garden watering can to wash her off. The caption reads: Wohl, nun kann der Guss beginnen. ~ Well, now the casting can begin. The black blob on the right is an ink stain, which may be why it was never posted.

 

The phrase is ironic and well-known with German speakers as it comes from the 1798 poem "Das Lied von der Glocke" ("The Song of the Bell") by the celebrated German poet Friedrich Schiller. It is considered one the most famous poems in German literature and one of the longest with 430 lines. In the poem Schiller uses the foundry process of casting a great bell as a way of commenting on the risks and conditions of human life. Back in April 2020 my story The Song of the Bell featured a set of humorous postcards that were about this same poem. However there were no naked women in that set.

 

 

A second postcard from Fritz Schönpflug's same series shows another woman who has just started on the soak cycle. Unfortunately her attendant has failed to account for volume and mass and the mud bath has overflowed the tub. Someone will have to clean that up. I don't think it smelled very nice either. 

 

This card was never mailed so there is no postmark but Schönpflug's signature has 909 which stands for 1909 in the dating custom of the time. There is no printed caption but someone penciled in a handwritten comment which ends in an exclamation mark. I'm sure it would be very funny if I could only understand the German words.

 

 

 

My next spa sketch by Fritz Schönpflug is not about a mud bath, (I hope!) but it is about another bathing experience at a spa. Here a woman of generous proportions in a bathing costume stands as a young man fastens a rope around her waist. He is dressed in light stripey shirt, sailor's trousers, sandals, and a sun hat. He also holds a stout staff suitable for poling a gondola. She looks less apprehensive and more charmed by his attention.

The front of the card has a place and date written in ink: Marienbad, 7/9/11. The postmark confirms this as it was sent from Marienbad on 7 September 1911 to a Monsieur C. P. Coumarians in Lausanne, Switzerland on Lake Geneva. Marienbad is the former German name for Mariánské Lázně another Boemian spa town in the Karlovy Vary Region of the Czech Republic. It is about 25 miles southwest of Karlsbad. Marienbad's mineral water springs were first developed in the 13th century by the monks of to the Teplá Abbey. However the town was not established until 1865 when it became popular with Europe's aristocracy and wealthy patrons who were seeking a resort a bit less crowded than other spas.

 

 

 

There are 100 mineral springs in and around Marienbad, and over half are tapped for dispensing mineral water to visitors. The water has a high concentration of carbon dioxide and iron with an average temperature of 7–10 °C (44.6–50°F) formed by interactions in deep fault lines that run beneath the region. Marienbad's water is believed to cure disorders of the kidneys, urinary tract, respiratory and circulatory systems, and a host of other afflictions and infirmities. It sounds like a fabled magic elixir that cures all sickness and disease. 

 

Apparently you can swim in it too

 

 

This final picture postcard is a variation of the previous cartoon. A young woman wearing a bathing costume stands patiently as a man ties a rope around her torso. She has a more slender figure than the woman on the other postcard and the man sports a straw hat and seems less like a beach life guard and more like a cab driver. He also looks like he enjoys his work.

 

This picture was not drawn by Fritz Schönpflug but by a contemporary, Ferdinand von Řezníček (1868–1909). Born in Sievering, (now part of Vienna) Řezníček first expected to follow his father, General Josef Řezníček, and pursue a military career. But his passion was in art and in 1888 he moved to Munich to study painting. He became a well-known illustrator/cartoonist for several German satirical magazines. 

 

This postcard was published by one of these magazines called Simplicissimus. It is number 5 in Series XI and has a postmark dated 2 October 1910 from Plauen, Germany which is southwest of Dresden and near the Austrian border.

 

 

I only recently discovered Ferdinand von Řezníček's postcards and have now acquired several that share a theme of dance. This particular image was different but it intrigued me enough with its strange suggestive metaphors to buy it too. It was only a few weeks later that I stumbled across Schönpflug's picture and recognized a connection. I'm not sure whose picture was first but one of the artists was having a little artist-to-artist fun copying the other. I hope to present more of Ferdinand von Řezníček artwork in a future story. Here is another example of his work that is unrelated to spas but demonstrates his subtle style. It's entitled "At the Opera."

Ferdinand von Řezníček (1868–1909)
"At the Opera"
Source: Wikipedia

As to what is going on with the woman and the rope, I have no clue other than what the two artists drew. Is the woman about to enter the deep end of the spa's pool? Is the attendant supposed to fish her out with the rope and pole? Maybe she's not jumping into fizzy mineral water but stepping into stinky hot mud. What does that cure? Is there a fire hose ready nearby?

 

As usual too many questions and very few answers.

 

 

 

I think the only appropriate way to finish this story
is to listen to The Hippopotamus song
as sung by the British comic duo who made it famous,
Michael Flanders and Donald Swann.

 

 

 

Mud, mud, glorious mud.
Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood.
So follow me, follow,
Down to the hollow,
And there let us wallow in glorious mud.

 

 

 

 

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where running aground is not always a bad thing.

One Times Three

 

 Sharp eyes and self-assured poise.

In a child it's a face that always inspires
affection, love, and pride
from parents and teachers.

 

 

 

Today it's common to see it
in children involved with sports or athletics.
But once upon a time it was more often found
in kids with musical talent.

 

 

It's a first sign of maturity and independence.
So parents cherish this expression in a child
because of its promise for a bright future.
And teachers treasure it because it reveals
talents they predicted were there along.

 

Today I'd like to introduce a young lady
who once posed for three beautiful portraits
that shine with this wonderful quality
that I'm sure pleased her parents as much
as they charmed me.

Unfortunately I do not know who she is.
But I've given her a name anyway
that I think suits her.
 

This is Katie, who once lived in Kansas.

 

 

 

 

The first photo shows Katie standing in a photographer's studio and holding a violin. Her dark long tresses frame her lovely face and flow onto the folds of her plaid dress. The balletic position of her feet gives her a graceful stance and lowering the camera lens makes her seem taller than she actually is.

 

All three photos are cabinet cards produced by 4d's Photos of Leavenworth, Kansas. The back of the cards are blank, though two photos have a very faint ghost image transferred from the other photos showing that they have been kept stacked together in the same drawer or box. The style of card and the embossed lettering seem to me more like those from the 1890s than the 1870s or 1880s which were the decades when cabinet card portraits were most popular. Katie's knee length dress, high button shoes are fashions that also seem more 1890s than 1880s but dating children's clothing is always tricky.

 

 

 

The photographer's location is the best clue for dating the photo, but the logo left out the state. In the United States there are three incorporated places named Leavenworth in Washington, Indiana, and Kansas, but only Leavenworth, Kansas was really a thriving community in the era of the cabinet card. In the 1890 census its population was 19,768 citizen which at the time was a good size for any city west of the Mississippi. The city and its county of the same name are situated on the Kansas side of the Missouri River about 25 miles northwest of Kansas City, Missouri/Kansas. 

 

The name comes from Fort Leavenworth which is a U. S. Army post established in 1827. It is the second oldest active United States Army base west of Washington, D.C., and the oldest permanent settlement in Kansas. It has a long history with the 24th and 25th Infantry Regiments and the 9th and 10th Cavalry Regiments which were formed for African-American soldiers in the segregated post-Civil era. Fort Leavenworth is also known as an important military training center for soldiers and officers, notably the School of Application for Cavalry and Infantry established in 1881 by General William Tecumseh Sherman. In modern times that school has evolved into the U.S. Army Command and General Staff College.  

 

In 1885 the Western Branch National Military Home ("old soldiers' home") was established in Leavenworth as a residence for disabled or retired soldiers. Leavenworth is also the location of the U.S. Army's maximum security prison.

 

With this military base in the heart of the continent, Leavenworth was a hub of activity for thousands of soldiers. There were railway lines north, south, east and west. Soldiers liked to have their picture taken. 

 

 

 

1892 Leavenworth, Kansas city directory

I expected to find 4d's Photos in Leavenworth's city directory. But was disappointed that the business was not listed in any directory from 1870 to 1900. However after several futile searches I noticed an interesting arrangement of the seven photographers in the 1892 directory. Four of them, C. E. Ford, Josepe Haag, E. E. Henry, and Harrison Putney had studios on Delaware St. and three were on the 400 block. The coincidence seems a good reason for a cooperative name if these photographers sometimes shared work. It's also possible that this 4d's was a traveling railroad photographer like the one I wrote about in October 2018, The Haynes Palace Studio Car. In any case the photographer was quite skilled and had an excellent camera.

 

 

 

 

 

The second photo shows Katie slightly turned with her violin in playing position, her feet having remained exactly in place. It's a classic pose very similar to other photos I have of child violinists, yet her right wrist and left fingers demonstrate a confident understanding of the instrument. It doesn't imply that she was a child prodigy, only that she looks very capable of making a good sound on the violin. In other words, she does not look like an awkward beginner.

 

 

 

1894 Leavenworth, Kansas city directory
Kansas Conservatory of Music & Elocution, advertisement

Old city directories are my favorite source of information on people and places. In addition to the long lists of names, occupations, civic groups, institutions, and government bodies, there are advertisements by all kinds of businesses that were once an important aspect of a city's heritage and culture. In 1872 a pastor in Leavenworth started a small private academy for teaching music and elocution. It was still in business in 1894 directed by the pastor's son, Alexander B. Brown as the Kansas Conservatory of Music & Elocution. 

 

The advertisement in the 1894 city directory included an endorsement by Ede or Eduard Reményi  (1828–1898) a Hungarian violin virtuoso then living in the United States. Reményi was a celebrated concert artist and teacher who was a friend of composer Johannes Brahms and rival to violinist Joseph Joachim. In the mid-1800s Reményi had great success as a concert artist in Europe and later in the 1880s in North America. In 1886 he made a grand concert tour of the world which included Japan, China, Cochinchina (Vietnam), and South Africa. 

 

In 1894 Reményi was back in America and evidently performed in Leavenworth. He visited Prof. Brown's Kansas Conservatory and praised Brown's "Prismatic Charts of Music and Elocution" as textbooks that "will revolutionize present methods of instruction, and especially facilitate a knowledge of ryhthm—the very soul of expression—yet so generally omitted or but partially presented in most works of elementary instructions."

 

The few references I could find on the Kansas Conservatory describe it as an academy for music instruction on piano, reed organ, violin, and voice, either in singing or oration. I don't think it included any band instruments. Lessons were $3 a month. It did call itself a "college" so its students came in ages from elementary school age to young adults. In this era many parents signed up their daughters for music lessons as proficiency in music was considered essential for hooking a good husband. Every fall and spring the conservatory would present a recital of its students, but reviews suggest the music was not exceptional. The Kansas Conservatory in Leavenworth remained in business almost 30 years until the death of Alex Brown.

 

In addition to the music conservatory there were at least a dozen or more music teachers in Leavenworth so it seems likely that Katie had a music teacher in this city. However there was one business heading missing from the city directory—Theatres. This is surprising as most towns this size in the 1890s would have had several theatres or an "opera house".

 

In this third photo, Katie lounges on the 4d's photographers' upholstered corner chair. She has a different expression that is equally familiar to parents and teachers. It's the look of a smart but bored child waiting, patiently perhaps, for this event or lesson to be over. In ten seconds the photographer will probably hear, "Mother! Can we pleasssse go now?"

 

 

Leavenworth, KS Times
28 January 1897

 

 

In January 1897 the Leavenworth Times ran a review of an afternoon entertainment put on by the Fort Leavenworth Century Club at the home of a woman "noted for her entertaining qualities." While enjoying "delicious punches and bon bons" the guests listened to seven musicians from the 20th Infantry "orchestra" who performed in the smoking room. Mr. R. B. Kanouse, "who possesses a very fine baritone voice rendered several solos. 

 

"Little Miss Katherine Phister played several violin selections which were loudly encored.  Although only eight years of age, Miss Katherine's future career as a musician is very promising." 

 

Katherine Phister was the youngest of two daughters to 2nd Lieutenant Nat P. Phister and his wife Mary Phister. Lt. Phister was a native of Maysville, Kentucky, a graduate of West Point, and in 1897 a regular army officer then assigned to the 1st Infantry Regiment at Fort Leavenworth. Previously he had been stationed in California at the Presidio of Monterey where Katherine was born in February 1887, and in Arizona where Katherine's older sister Belle was born in 1884. In the 1900 census Mary Phister and her daughters were living at Fort Thomas, Kentucky while Capt. Phister was serving in Cuba. Later he would take the family to the Philippines where he was posted during the American occupation. 

I could continue with much more on the Phister family history. I found it interesting to research because Katherine grew up the daughter of an army officer whose career was not unlike my father's 25 year service in the U.S. Army, except my dad never had to deal with horses or invade Cuba. And when I was Katherine's age my dad was stationed at Fort Riley, Kansas, about 110 mile west of Fort Leavenworth, so I already knew about its importance to an officer's advancement.

 

Finding little Miss Katherine Phister's name in this brief two sentence review is by no means a positive identification of the girl in my three photos. At best it is a coincidence, since even the approximate date of these photos can't be determined. But it does offer a very slim possibility that I might be correct which is why I've named this charming young lady Katie. 

 

Sometimes all that is left in an old photo is what we imagine we see. I see someone I would have happily listened to and shouted bravo just to see her smile.

 

 

 

 

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where no one really minds
if they get sand in their shoes.

Swimming with the Fishes

 

Left and right. Forward or backward. East, west, north, and south. Once upon a time the world was defined in just two dimensions because no matter where you went, your feet were always firmly affixed to the ground. Climbing a tree or digging a hole didn't count as basically you were always standing on a substitute floor. Even on a boat you were still floating on a ship's deck more or less at sea level.

 

It wasn't until the 19th century that a few clever and determined aeronauts discovered ways to defy gravity with balloons, gliders, and airships. Then in the 1900s powered aeroplanes opened the sky into a new dimension for mankind. People could finally experience flying like a bird.

 

In the same decade another invention unlocked the opposite direction. Nautical engineers figured out how to control buoyancy in marvelous submarine vessels that could dive beneath the sea. Now people could imagine swimming like a fish. It turned out that exploring the world underwater was just as complicated, and dangerous, as flying above it.

The idea of flying inspired countless men to build machines, both lighter and heavier than air, that would carry people up into the skyward dimension. But far fewer inventors had a passion to untangle the myriad difficult challenges of propelling a watercraft down below the sea. These pioneers of submersible vessels had a different motivation than the early aeronauts. Their goal was not to explore the ocean's mysteries, but to develop a stealthy warship that could hide beneath its surface. By 1900 advancements in marine engineering and manufacturing of ships, electrical motors, petrol engines, and military armament reached a level that made a powered submersible watercraft a viable reality. Just as the 1900s introduced a new age of aeroplanes, it also became a new age for the submarine boat. Mankind now had reasons to think both downward and upward.

This colorized picture postcard shows a naval officer standing half out of a turret on a vessel that is mostly concealed below water.  The caption reads:

U. S. Submarine Boat Plunger

 

The USS Plunger (SS-2) was the second submarine commissioned in the United States Navy. Her keel was laid down on 21 May 1901 at the Crescent Shipyard in Elizabeth, New Jersey. She was launched on 1 February 1902 and commissioned in 9 September 1903. The USS Plunger shared a name with an earlier experimental submarine that was powered by a steam engine. It was designed by inventor and submarine pioneer John P. Holland (1841–1914). His boat, (all submarines are called boats, not ships.) was evaluated by the U.S. Navy from 1898 to 1900, but was never accepted or commissioned. This second Plunger was the lead boat in her Plunger ship-class which resulted in seven submarine boats built on the same design.

The postcard was sent from Waterbury, Connecticut on 16 October 1906 to Miss Sophie Johnson of New Sweden Station, a tiny village way up in the northwoods of Maine, about 200 miles inland from the Atlantic Ocean.

Along the side is a message:

                                Dear  Sophie

                    Will write you soon  got the Book
                    also the letter  Johanna.

 

 

The USS Plunger was not intended for long voyages over deep water. It was a submarine torpedo boat meant for defending harbors. It was a similar concept to the ironclad monitor warships used in the 1860s that were armed with large naval cannons to guard ports, essentially as floating fortresses. The Plunger submarine was furnished with single torpedo tube, but unlike the monitor it could sink below the water to conceal its position from enemy ships.

 

 

USS Plunger (SS-2)
Source: Wikipedia

 

This photo of the USS Plunger shows it underway in the New York Navy Yard around 1908-09. At the time it was assigned to the First Submarine Flotilla which included its sister-ships USS Porpoise (SS-7), and Shark (SS-8). By January 1905 the other Plunger-class submarine torpedo boats, USS Grampus and Pike were on the Pacific coast at the Mare Island Navy Yard in Vallejo, California and the USS Adder and Moccasin were assigned to the Reserve Torpedo Flotilla in Norfolk, Virginia. 

 

 

In this colorized photo postcard, captioned: U. S. Submarine Boat "Plunger" , Brooklyn Navy Yard, the Plunger lies propped up in dry dock in front of another submarine. Both boats are dwarfed inside the gigantic basin that was built to support maintenance on great battleships.

 

 A message on the border reads:

                            You are a man of peace so I
                            thought you'd enjoy seeing this
                            deadly machine.   Almina Lictner (?)

 

The card was sent from New York City on 8 July 1907 to Mr. Harry Woodard, of Bartow, Florida which is near Winter Haven in between the state's Gulf Coast and Atlantic Coast. Harry was born in 1887 and in the 1900 census was the son of an "Engineer, Ice Factory" and then a student "at school". Later in 1910 Harry worked as a railroad "freight agent", so the writer's reference to a "man of peace" may be about the young man's professed feelings on war or the writer's joke. 

 

 

 

A Plunger class submarine was 63' 10" long with a beam of 11' 11". Most of the boat was submerged when it was at the surface so its draft 10' 7" was much deeper that a regular boat of the same size.  The boat's single screw propeller was powered by a 160 HP gasoline engine at the surface and by a 150 HP electric motor powered by 60 battery cells when submerged. This gave it a speed of 8 knots surfaced and 8 knots underwater. A Plunger submarine was capable of reaching a depth of 150' feet, but 100' was the tested limit. It was armed with one 18" torpedo tube and carried 5 torpedoes. Normal operation of the boat required a complement of 1 officer and 6 enlisted men.  

 

 

 

Diagram for USS Plunger
Source: Navsource.org

These two diagrams of the USS Plunger's construction plans reveal that this boat was very unsophisticated. Compared to modern submarines it was as primitive in design as the Wright brothers' airplane was to a jet plane. Shaped like a sausage the sub was stuffed with just the necessary marine requirements. The gasoline engine and electric motor were aft next to the prop and rudder. The torpedo tube was fixed in the bow. Arranged in the center was the large battery box, and several tanks for air, ballast, and fuel. The torpedoes were fastened to the inside. One writer of the time noted that

There was no accommodation or facilities for the crew. Food was cooked over a portable stove. A bucket served as a latrine. The engine fumes, battery acid, stale air, noise, and pervasive saltwater damp made life aboard this vessel particularly uncomfortable. Even by navy standards of the time it was considered very unhealthy and extremely hazardous to its sailors.

 

 

Plans for USS Plunger
Source: Navsource.org

A section view shows the cylindrical design of the USS Plunger with a radius of just 5' 10". When submerged the commander stood on a raised box in the short conning tower to operate both the steering and diving plane controls. There was no periscope, his only viewpoint was to look through small deadlight windows in the tower and try to blindly aim the vessel towards its quarry. Failure to secure the craft's single hatch before diving was a harsh lesson that several early submariners had to learn the hard way. 

 

San Francisco Call
26 August 1905

On 25 August 1905 the USS Plunger was towed to Oyster Bay on the north coast of Long Island, New York. Situated on the bay was Sagamore Hill, the home of Theodore Roosevelt who was then in his fourth year as president of the United States. In great secrecy the navy had arranged a private test of its new submersible torpedo boat for the president's personal inspection. On the day Roosevelt only decided to accompany the Plunger's commander, Lieutenant Charles H. Nelson at the last moment. Even his family didn't know about it.

The president squeezed through the hatch and was given a short tour of the boat. It then dived to a depth of 40 feet staying submerged for half an hour. This was followed by an exhibition of "porpoise diving" which "consists of dashing through the water a t high speed, alternately appearing and disappearing along the surface after the manner of a porpoise [i.e. dolphin]." 

 

 

New York World
26 August 1905

The Plunger then dove at an angle of forty-five degrees. stopped at a depth of 20 feet, reversed engines and popped back to the surface. It did two more dives, once remaining motionless with all lights extinguished to demonstrate how the crew was trained to work in total darkness. The president stayed on the submarine for almost three hours and several times was given control of the vessel.

In this front page from the New York World, a cartoon Roosevelt is drawn scrambling all over the boat which is depicted as much larger than it really was. Newspapers around the country had covered the movements of the submarine earlier in the week and reported on a possible inspection, generally presuming that the president would watch from the safety of a ship or at the Sagamore Hill dock. When it was revealed that he actually went down underwater the news went to the front page with many photos and illustrations. Most reports chastised the president's audacity at putting himself at deadly risk of an accident. But by the point in his term it only served to increase Roosevelt's reputation for courage and daring.

 

Later the next month, Roosevelt wrote about his inspection of the Plunger to Hermann Speck von Sternburg (1852–1908), a German diplomat.

 

        "I myself am both amused and interested as to what you say about the interest excited about my
        trip in the Plunger. I went down in it chiefly because I did not like to have the officers and enlisted
        men think I wanted them to try things I was reluctant to try myself. I believe a good deal can be
        done with these submarines, although there is always the danger of people getting carried away
        with the idea and thinking that they can be of more use than they possibly could be."
        To another correspondent he declared that never in his life had he experienced "such a diverting
        day ... nor so much enjoyment in so few hours."

Ironically this was written to a diplomat of Imperial Germany which in less than ten years would build a fleet of over 350 long range Unterseeboots (under-sea boats), or U-boats. These German submarines terrorized shipping lanes from 1914 to 1918 resulting in a loss to the Allied forces of 10 battleships, 18 cruisers, and numerous smaller navy vessels, as well as 12,850,815 gross tons in merchant ships. More than 3000 British civilian ships were sunk and almost 15,000 British merchant sailors killed. I featured a small collection of postcard artwork on these German submarines back in my story from March 2023, Terror on the High Seas. 

USS Moccasin, View forward of single torpedo tube, 1912
Source: Wikipedia

At the time of his inspection of the Plunger President Roosevelt was seeking an end to the Russo-Japanese War which was a conflict waged between the Japanese Empire and the Russian Empire over the acquisition of Manchuria and the Korean Empire. His diplomatic effort succeeded in a peace treaty signed by the imperial rivals on 5 September 1905 at the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard in Kittery, Maine. During this war the Imperial Russian Navy ordered a small flotilla of seven submarines built similar to the Plunger. These submarines were designed by American naval engineers for harbor defense, though they were stationed mainly on Russia's Baltic Coast. 

 

In August 1914 Japan joined Britain and France as an ally against the empires of Germany and Austria-Hungary. In return it acquired several of Germany's Asian colonial outposts. Japan's military planners paid close attention to the power of a submarine fleet as during WW1 its navy performed escort duty in the Pacific and Mediterranean and lost ships to submarine attacks. Two decades later Japan's submarines would prove a dangerous force in the Second World War.

 

The Plunger was decommissioned a few months after Roosevelt's inspection on 3 November 1905 and put into storage. It remained inactive until 23 February 1907 when it was recommissioned with a new commander, Ensign Chester Nimitz, who would later become a celebrated fleet admiral in WW2. Nimitz later recalled the Plunger as "a cross between a Jules Verne fantasy and a humpbacked whale".

 

The Plunger was stricken from the Naval Vessel Register on 24 February 1913 and in 1916 it was designated as an "experimental target" for gunnery training and in March 1918 she was sank off New Suffolk, Massachusetts. In 1921 the sunken hulk was raised but the Salvage Diving School at New London, Connecticut and sold for scrap.

 

Whether you are up in an airplane
or below the sea in a submarine,
it's the safe return to the ground
or to the surface that is the happy goal.

 

 I can not resist including
the one song about submarines
that everyone knows.
Feel free to join in the chorus.

 

 

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where the one thing fishing teaches you
is that you've got to have hope.

The Boy Wonder - Franz von Vecsey

 

It seems like an ordinary snapshot
of a boy in stripy pajamas stepping out the door
of a small house on wagon wheels.
Disregarding the unusual shack being above water,
nearly every family has photos just like it
taken at a beach in summers past.

But this one is different
as it is a postcard
with a simple caption:
Franz de Vecsey.

Franz was no ordinary kid
but a boy with great talent.
Though he was only 11 years old
he was already a violin virtuoso
who was on his way to becoming a superstar celebrity.

But he could be just like other boys, too.
This is his story.

The postcard of Franz has him stepping off a "bathing machine" in Ostende, the seaside resort in West Flanders in the Flemish Region of Belgium. The postcard was sent on 26 November 1904, hardly summer time, to Frl. M. Knecht, the Consulat de France in Düsseldorf, Germany, the capital city of the German state North Rhine-Westphalia on the Rhine River. The writer left a short note for the consul on the front of the postcard.

In
remembrance
of the lovely
musical evening we
spent in the Tonhalle on
November 25th 1904
with love
Lil.

Franz von Vecey had shot to the front of a crowded line of young violin prodigies only the year before when he gave his debut public concert at the "Beethoven Halle" in Berlin on 17 May 1903. He was then just a few months past his 10th birthday. Born in Budapest, Hungary on 23 March 1893, both of Franz's parents were musicians. His mother Anna was a pianist and his father Lajos Vecsey was a violinist who gave Franz his first lessons on violin. It was soon apparent that Ferenc, as he was called by his parents, had an extraordinary talent, so at age 8 he was sent to study with Jenő Hubay (1858–1937), a Hungarian violinist, composer and distinguished violin teacher in Budapest. 

 

However Vecsey's talent was so astonishing that he was sent to Berlin to play for the eminent Hungarian violinist and teacher, Joseph Joachim (1831–1907), who was then considered the greatest violinist of his time. It was for Joachim that the composers Schumann, Brahms, Bruch, and Dvořák wrote their violin concertos. He had also taught many of the younger generation of violin virtuosos, including Hubay. So many violinists aspired to get a place in Joachim's studio that he only accepted those with exceptional talent. After first hearing Franz, Joachim recognized that this special musical genius was ready for public performances. He reportedly said of young Vecsey, "He is the most marvelous example of a musical prodigy I have ever encountered.  I cannot explain it.  He is beginning where everyone else has left off."

 

It was Joachim who in May 1903 arranged for Vecsey's first concert in Berlin with an orchestra that Joachim would conduct. It featured Beethoven's monumental concerto for violin. The acclaim he received from this concert brought more concert offers and over the next few months Vecsey would play in Vienna, St. Petersburg, and then London. 

In this postcard Franz, dressed in a white sailor suit, leans casually on a photographer's studio table. He is not even holding his violin, which rests on a chair, just his bow. The only identification is a single word caption: Vescey, a mistaken spelling that many Hungarians have learned to endure. Franz proper name in Hungarian is Vecsey Ferenc as surnames are placed first.   

This postcard was sent from Muenchen (München), Bavaria on 28 December 1903. 

New Orleans Times-Democrat
13 December 1903

 

This same image of Franz was reprinted, often rather crudely, in American newspapers as Franz's fame began to circulate through the music world beyond Europe. The Times-Democrat of New Orleans began: "There doesn't seem to be much doubt that little Franz von Vecsey, the boy violinist over whose playing all artistic Berlin is going into ecstasies at present, is not as other 'juvenile prodigies', but really is going to cut a big figure in the musical world hereafter.  For this youngster of ten handles his three-quarter size violin with really astonishing mastery, and critics are unanimous in praising his marvelous technique, and also his interpretation of the works he plays." 

 

I've collected quite a few postcards of young Hungarian violinists and featured them here on my blog. The first was  Kun Arpad - A Violin Prodigy  from September 2011, and then Irma Surányi - A Child Violin Virtuoso from March 2013. A postcard of  Franz von Vecsey appeared in Three Boys in Sailor Suits in May 2014. For reasons unknown, every child violinist had to appear in a sailor suit, which is odd since the only music usually associated with sailors are sea shanties, hornpipes, and jigs. 

This next postcard portrait is a good example of the classic boy violinist fashion. Here Franz von Vecsey wears a dark color sailor's blouse with the broad white collar but he has no violin. Just his name in the caption identifies this boy with dark Hungarian eyes. On the card border someone added a place and date, Ostende 7/7/04 and it was also addressed to a young woman in Ostende, so this card may have been on display when Vecsey visited Ostende, and perhaps performed there, too.

Vecsey was just a few weeks past his eleventh birthday when he arrived in London in May 1904, but his name was already well-known. Child entertainers were surprisingly very common in this era, so many cities were now putting restrictions on performances of children out of a new progressive concern for protecting children from harsh work or hazardous environments. In theater work the main issues for young people were the late hours and the thick smog produced by men smoking tobacco. Franz von Vecsey's concerts were set for afternoons.

London Daily Telegraph
26 March 1904

Vecsey's repertoire already included concertos by Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Tchaikovsky, Henryk Wieniawski, and Henri Vieuxtemps with shorter solo pieces by Bach, Schubert, Paganini, and his teacher Jenő Hubay. To play such music by memory requires immense musical skill and focused mental concentration. That an eleven year old boy could do it so well was an astonishing thing to witness. People clamored to get tickets to hear the "Boy Wonder".

London Daily Mirror
4 May 1904

The London Daily Mirror published a review of his concert the next day. It noted that many prominent musicians came to hear Vecsey play, and "As for the rest of the audience, they were simply held spellbound by the little fellow, dressed in a white suit with blue cocks and black shoes, who played, as Joachim has said, 'like a mature artist'.
  "It is not too much to say that he is undoubtedly the most marvelous child violinist that has appeared for many years.  His tone many an adult player might envy, whilst technique was no terror for him—double stopping in harmonics and bravura passages of all kinds, he overcomes without apparent difficulty."

London Daily Mirror
4 May 1904

The Daily Mirror also ran a splendid photo of Franz von Vecsey with Dr. Joachim, looking much like a picture of grandfather with grandson. 

 

It was shortly after this that Franz von Vecsey made a recording for the Gramophone Company. Here is a YouTube music video of young Franz, age 11, playing a Carmen Fantasia, Op.3 N°3, parts 1 and 2, arranged by his teacher,  Jenő Hubay on 15 July 1904. 

      

 

 [ At the beginning of the video there is a picture of a young violinist who is not Vecsey. It is Florizel von Reuter (1890–1985), an American violin prodigy and a contemporary of Vecsey. I have photos of him, too, but that is a story for another time.]

Postcards of Franz von Vecsey became a popular souvenir in Britain that summer of 1904 when he played numerous times. This card came from the same series as the previous one and has a greeting on the bottom border: With love from Dolly 15/6/04. 

London Daily Telegraph
14 May 1904

After his first concert in London in May 1904, Franz and his parents were given a special honor of an invitation from Queen Alexandra to perform at Buckingham Palace. Playing before her Majesty and Princess Victoria, "He first gave Wieniawski's 'Faust Fantasie,' and then, at her Majesty's special request, 'Ave Maria,' by Schubert-Wilhelmj.  Some of the attendants were on the point of providing the young artist with a music-stand, and surprise was expressed when it was found that this was not necessary, as Franz plays everything from memory.  Her Majesty expressed herself in gracious terms respecting the performance.  Madame and Herr von Vecsey accompanied their son to the Palace."

Dolly sent a second postcard of Franz von Vecsey on the same day. What caught my attention was that both cards were addressed to Master Dudley Adams of "Cooinoo" in Turramurra, New South Wales, Australia, about 12 miles north of Sydney. Postage was only one penny for a red stamp of King Edward VII.

New York Times
8 January 1905

After his great success in London, Franz Vecsey prepared for a grand tour of the United States. His manager, Daniel Frohman, secured incredible fees that reportedly were $1,500 per concert, much higher than many adult instrumental virtuosos could command. The first concert was booked into New York's Carnegie Hall on Tuesday, 10 January 1905 at 8:15 PM. The program featured Henri Vieuxtemps' Violin Concerto in E; Henryk Wieniawski's Faust Fantasy; an air by Bach; and other selections. An orchestra of 60 musicians was engaged to accompany him, conducted by Nahan Franko (1861–1930), an American violinist and conductor who had once been a child prodigy himself, playing his debut concert in New York's Steinway Hall in 1869 at the age of 8.

For a tour like this, postcards were not enough, so a proper cabinet card photograph was produced. In this image clipped from a larger card mount, Franz Vecsey sits, legs crossed, on the edge of a grand ornately carved chair. I don't think his feet would touch the floor if he sat properly. He cradles his violin and looks thoughtfully to the right. The photo is not marked but since I have collected enough of his postcards, I recognized his face instantly when I spotted this on eBay. It's a rare prize in my collection.

The photographer was Pach Bros. of New York at 935 Broadway. This premier studio catered to many high society and celebrity patrons from Boston to Washington. I featured two of their large format photographs in my story from a few weeks ago, The Pierian Sodality of Harvard.

Besides New York City, Daniel Frohman booked a tour with over 30 concerts in cities like Chicago, Cleveland, St. Louis, Philadelphia, Washington D. C., Baltimore, and Boston as well as in smaller cities like Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania and Indianapolis, where he celebrated his 12th birthday. Vecsey's photos showed up in advertisements, too, like this placement in an ad for the Wissner Piano Company of Brooklyn, New York. This was an era when copyrights and trademarks were not always respected, especially across international borders. So though Vecsey's fame certainly preceded his arrival, whether his manager also sold the rights to his image being used is unknown. Since Wissner pianos were announced as the instrument used on Vecsey's recitals, it seems likely there was some kind of deal.

Brooklyn Daily Eagle
4 December 1904

In just a bit less than two years, Franz von Vacsy had played his violin in dozens of major cities to great acclaim. He had met and played for Kaiser Wilhelm, Czar Nicholas, Queen Alexandra, and countless members of noble families, each time usually receiving a valuable gift like a gold watch or a diamond stick pin. Now that Franz was in the United States there may have been no royalty but there were still important people who wanted to meet this talented Hungarian boy.

Washington Post
24 January 1905

In late January 1905 when Franz and his parents were in Washington, D. C. for his next concert, Franz was presented to President Theodore Roosevelt at the White House. "Young Vecsey asked 'Uncle Roosevelt' for an autograph photograph.  'You shall certainly have it,' said the President, and instructed Secretary Loeb to send one to the Raleigh, where Vecsey was stopping.  Later in the day the party went sightseeing in an automobile, and the young artist was much impressed with the beautiful buildings, especially the Capitol, where he asked the chauffeur to drive by slowly." It seems that Franz had a hobby of collecting autographs from all the famous people he met which he kept in a scrapbook album. Franz also collected postage stamps which would have interested another President Roosevelt. 

New York Tribune
6 April 1905

 

After nearly three months touring America, playing over 30 concerts for huge audiences that sometimes numbered in the thousands, Franz von Vecsey gave his farewell performance on Saturday 8 April, once again at Carnegie Hall, only this time at 2:15 in the afternoon. He would play Beethoven's violin concerto; Tartini's "Devils Trill"; and Vieuxtemps' Ballade and Polonaise assisted by the New York Symphony Orchestra under conductor Victor Herbert. At the same time the Barnum & Baily circus was starting its first show a couple of dozen blocks down 7th Avenue at the Madison Square Garden. I wonder if Vecsey's parents took him down for the second show. What boy would not want to see an automobile loop the gap in the "Dip of Death".

My last postcard of young Franz von Vecsey shows him in a chair, relaxed and holding his violin against his chest. It's how I imagine he looked in his dressing room just before going on stage, with his fingers unconsciously moving to the music.

The card was never posted and has no date but there is short message. If you read between the lines, the writer chose Vecsey's postcard because they played the violin too.

 

                             Dear Marie__
                                        After much persuasion
                            Ada finally decided to
                            accompany me home.  Charlie
                            had only just got in,
                            having waited at stage (Seacombe boat)
                            since 9:30 for A.K.  He thought
                            he had missed us so returned.
                            Mother Father Ada & Eva
                            have gone to a flower show
                            at  St. George's Hall.  So I'm all
                            alone.  I've found the
                            book you referred to I
                            think.  I will try & come
                            early on Thursday & will
                            bring it.   By the bye will you give my instrument
                                a brisk rubbing up & down  strings. 
                                  I forgot to wipe them last evening.
                                       Love to Aunt Marion, Uncle & Self.

When he left America, Franz Vecsey reportedly promised to return when he grew a beard. However though he sported a mustache as a young man I don't think he ever came back to North America as I could not find any reports of his concerts. By the summer of 1905 Franz was back in Europe and touring again to great acclaim. Later that year the Finnish composer Jean Sibelius met Vecsey and was so impressed by his talent that he dedicated a revised version of his Violin Concerto in D minor, Op. 47 to Vecsey, who played it the following year at age 13 and would go on to play it 200 times in his career. 

Critics feared that Vecsey would burn out from too much concertizing at such a young age and lose his skill and talents as he inevitably grew older. Too many child prodigies had failed to achieve their early promise as not every talented boy wonder was destined to become the next Mozart or Mendelssohn. Yet as the boy wonder Franz Vecsey matured he overcame his critics' pessimistic predictions achieving a reputation as genuine violin virtuoso, though not without facing some difficult obstacles.

As with most artists the Great War of 1914-18 disrupted all music and culture everywhere. Vecsey was age 21 at the start of the war and a citizen of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire so he was compelled to do military service, reportedly in the Austrian flying corps. In 1918 some newspapers reported he had seriously injured his hand in an accident, ruining his music career. 

 

Vecsey apparently recovered and in the 1920s became a popular violin soloist in Europe. He married and set up a home in Venice, Italy. My last portrait postcard of Franz von Vecsey is of him as a mature artist that probably dates from the height of his post-car career in the late 1920s or early 1930s. Franz at age 30+ still shows the confidence and self-assurance that characterized his photos at age 11.

But in 1935, just when Franz was considering giving up the life of a violin soloist and taking up conducting, he was stricken with a debilitating heart condition. He went to Rome for medical care but surgery failed to help him and on 5 April 1935 Franz von Vecsey died at age 42. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Footnotes

 

 

1905 Annuaire diplomatique et consulaire de la République française
Emile Knecht, consul général
Source: Archive.org

 

I could not skip over including a bit of research I discovered on Frl. M. Knecht, the recipient of Franz Vecsey's postcard that begins this story. According to a vast 1905 French directory on diplomats and consuls, his full name was Émile Knecht and he was born in 1846. At the age of 20 he began a career in the French diplomatic service that took him to London; Cape of Good Hope, South Africa; Bangkok, Siam; Liverpool, England; Dublin, Ireland; Sunderland, England; Swansea, Wales; Düsseldorf; and then around the time he received this postcard of a boy taking a dip in the sea, M. Knecht was appointed consul général in Frankfurt, Germany. Somehow he missed taking up a positions in San Francisco and Hong Kong, but he certainly saw a lot of the world. I bet he told some good stories around the dinner table. Did he ever hear Franz Vecsey play?

 

 

The Bystander, an Illustrated Weekly
21 September 1904

In September 1904 the photo of Franz von Vecsey stepping out of the Ostende bathing machine was published in The Bystander, a British travel weekly. I recognize this youngster's expression, full of excitement and a bit of worry. That first dip into the sea is one you never forget. But we have to ask, did he leave his violin in the little shack?

Bathing machines on beach
at Ostende, Belgium 1913
Source: Wikimedia

People back in earlier times had peculiar ideas about recreation. This Bain News Service photo dates from 1913 and shows "bathers" using bathing machines at the shoreline of Ostende, Belgium. These small moveable huts were for hire and pulled by a horse and driver out into the shallow water of the resort's beach. The "bathing machine" allowed bathers to discretely change into appropriate swimming attire, though I wonder how many actually got totally wet. But I can easily imagine Franz Vecsey having a great time paddling in the sea, just like any other 10 year old kid would.

 

For more on Ostende's music, check out my story from August 2015, Music by the Seaside,  about the Orchestra of the Kursall in Ostende.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where you have to get your feet wet this weekend.