Three Brass Duos

 

Sometimes it's not the instruments
but the hats and mustaches that persuade
me to add a musician's photo to my collection.

Likewise band uniforms
more than individual instruments
can affect my decision to buy a photo.

And then when I realize
I've acquired musical photos 

that share some attribute
like an instrument combination
or a mix of hats and uniforms
I start looking for similar photos.

Today I present three photos
of pairs of vintage bandsmen
who played cornet and euphonium. 

My first duo are two men wearing dapper bowler hats and sporting tightly twisted mustaches, which, I believe, required a lot of wax. Both have long suit coats though of different lengths. On the left the cornet player's coat is cut at standard business length but has an elegant velvet collar which must have cost extra. The coat on the euphonium player is longer, hemmed at his ankles, and comes with a short cape for foul weather. They have a style that suggests they are members of a professional band like a minstrel show troupe as those ensembles favored long duster style coats. But minstrel  band musicians usually wore top hats not bowlers, so these fellows may just be mates in a local town band.

The photographer of this cabinet card photograph was C. Anson Goodhart of 16 South Railroad St. in Shippensburg, Pennsylvania. On the back is written: 

 B. N. Palmer on Right 

In the Ancestry.com archive I found a Bernard N. Palmer, born 1868, living in Belfast, Pennsylvania, a small township roughly 50 miles west of Shippensburg. In the 1900 census Bernard listed his occupation as "school teacher" and I found his name mentioned as B. N. Palmer in  several county newspapers. However none connected him to a band, much less a euphonium, so this identification is still speculation until I find more clues. Yet I do think the man on the right does look like a teacher.   

* * *

My second cornet euphonium duo are definitely bandsmen as they wear proper uniforms with fancy embroidery. The cornet player on the right seems to have suffered a wardrobe malfunction as his jacket is missing some braid. They are standing outside in front of a heavy canvas wall, presumably a tent. Their caps have a name that unfortunately is too blurred to decipher the letters. It looks like the last three letters are STO which looks Italian and the euphonium player's mustache certainly has an Italian curl. So I can easily imagine they are members of an Italian band featured in a traveling circus or carnival show.  The postcard was not posted but is printed on American paper so I believe it dates from around 1910-1920. 

* * *

My third and final cornet and euphonium duo are the most interesting pair. Two men in formal military dress uniforms pose outdoors at the front of  a canvas tent. Across their chests is a braided cord fastened at the left shoulder with two knotted circular tassels that, I believe, is called a fourragère, not to be confused with a similar cord with metal tips called an aiguillette. I'm not sure why this cord accoutrement appear on military band uniforms but it's a feature that appears in a lot of my photos. (Perhaps one day I'll put together a special story just on uniform ornaments.) In any case these two bandsmen look overdressed for sitting around a campfire. 

The peak of the tent has letters N. G. which are a clue that this is a national guard tent and presumably the men are members of a guard band. But that does not mean they were enlisted soldiers. In earlier times state guard units would go to their annual two week encampment with a hired professional band to play parade marches and provide entertainment. Check out my story from February 2019 The Band at the Old Campground about photos of another euphonium player who was a member of the Washington National Guard band. (Looking back at that story reminds me that I could do a story just on musicians standing in front of tents, too.) 

The back of this unmailed photo postcard are two notes: 

Herb? Long on left
2nd Regiment Marine
Band
A.Town

At first I thought they might actually be bandsmen in the United States Marine Corps. But national guard units in this era were not marines. It took a little more digging in the internet mines to learn they were actually members of the Marine Band of Allentown, Pennsylvania. The band was first organized by local "A.Town" Allentown musicians in January 1903 as a "military" style band, influenced by the popularity of the U. S. Marine Band, the President's Own, and its famous leader John Philip Sousa (1854–1932). In its first year the band presented 131 concerts, almost one every other day, and established a reputation in the region for superior music. In 1907 it formed a connection to a fraternal society The Sons of Veterans Reserve, now known as the Sons of Union Veterans of the Civil War, and became the 2nd Regiment Band, S.V.R. 

I'm not sure how this national society functioned as a state guard, but before the First World War the Allentown S.V.R. along with the Marine Band went to annual "encampments" like in 1907, Scranton; 1908, Walnutport; 1910, Wilkes-Barre; 1911, Mauch Chunk; 1912, Reading; 1913, Gettysburg; 1914, Sunbury; 1915, Gloucester, N. J.; and 1916, Lehighton. 

After the United States joined the war in 1917, the Allentown Marine Band performed for recruiting drives and promotion for war bonds. By the end of the year 22 members of the band enlisted, most joining army bands. According to a history of the Allentown Marine Band published 20 January 1924 by the Allentown Morning Call, one musician "paid the supreme sacrifice.  Henry Herlickler, known as 'Happy', was killed while trumpeting a charge before Sedan in France the day before the armistice, November 10, 1918. He was a member of the 79th Division.  Four other members of the band were gassed or wounded:  Harry Nitz, wounded;  Arthur Stoneback, gassed; Earl Hersh, gassed;  Irwin Boyer, gassed." 

Today the Allentown Marine Band is still in operation and performing concerts in Allentown, though with a new generation of musicians, of course. In March 1972 the Allentown Morning Call published another piece on the organization and included an old undated  photo of the band. Here the Marine Band stands in front of a building, I'm guessing either the city armory or maybe the Sons of Veterans lodge. The band's uniforms are different from what my cornet euphonium duo wear, more military like with jodhpurs and leggings. There are around 40 or more musicians, and I think my cornet player is standing in the front row, fifth from left. I don't see the euphonium player's face, but he might be in the group cut off on the right.

The Allentown Marine Band
Allentown PA Morning Call
11 March 1972

The earlier 1924 history of the Allentown Marine Band included some individual photos of its bandsmen. This picture of Solon Boyer, valve trombonist, charter member, and treasurer of the organization, shows him wearing a uniform identical to that of my cornet and euphonium players. With luck I may be able to track down their names and learn the date and location of my photo. 

Allentown PA Morning Call
20 January 1924

What is remarkable about Allentown's musical heritage is that the 2nd Regiment Marine Band was just one ensemble in a long list of the city's concert bands. Today in 2025 Allentown still enjoys concerts by the Allentown Band, established in 1828; the Pioneer Band of Allentown, established in 1889; the Municipal Band of Allentown, established as a police band in 1923; as well as the Allentown Marine Band, established in 1903. And I've also written two stories about Allentown's Young America boys' band, Two Brothers in Music;  and its Good Shepherd Home for Children orphanage band, Clover the Horse and the Boys Band.  I can't think of any place in North America that can beat a louder drum for music. I wonder, do they ever perform together? 

In earlier times the brilliant sound of a cornet
made it the premier solo instrument of a brass band.
But the sonorous euphonium is equally
a solo instrument in the tenor/baritone range.

So demonstrate the beautiful musical quality
of a cornet and euphonium combination
here is David Koch (Cookie's Music)
playing both instruments, (though not simultaneous!)
 in "A Londonderry Jig" a duet that might easily have been played
by the bandsmen in my three photos.

And as a treat for my Sepia Saturday friends
here is photo of my maternal grandmother,
Blanche Dobbin, before she was married
and was just Blanche Shaw,
sitting on a motorcycle with her cousin Robbie
in Washington, D.C. sometime around 1922.

And yours truly, Mister Mike
sitting on my Yamaha SR500 thumper
in Virginia Beach, circa 1979.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where some folk have pretty sweet rides.

Velvet, Lace, and Violins

There is something about lacework
that once made a fashion statement
that signified genteel qualities
and polished refinement.

Though usually an embellishment of female garments,
sometimes lace enhanced boys' clothing too.
 

Lace collars and cuffs
added a flourish of elegance
that implied cultivated class
to boy in a velvet jacket.
Even if his sleeves
were too short
or too long.

In olden times
young musicians,
for some reason violin players in particular,
often dressed in suits of fuzzy material
decorated with fine lacework.

Maybe it was suitable
for playing Mozart
but it was not the kind of uniform
a boy would wear to play baseball.

Today I present a collection of boys
dressed in velvet and lace
who made their mothers proud.

 

The first boy has a serious countenance as he stands on a photographer's studio stage. He wears a dark velvet suit with wide lace collar and cuffs. On his feet are a kind of slipper rather than sturdy  button top shoes. An anchor pin and bright ribbon at his neck adds a nautical theme. The boy holds a violin, a half-size one, I think, that would be suitable for a child of his small stature. Though he doesn't exude the confidence of a wunderkind, I think he still has the look of someone who knows how to play a violin and not merely hold a stage prop. 

The photography studio was  Hartley Bros. of 2 South Road, Waterloo in Liverpool, England. The back of the cabinet card advertises that the Hartley Brothers made a specialty in "Outdoor Photography" and offered "Instantaneous Portraits of Children". 

What attracted me to this card were two handwritten notations made on the back, probably a century apart. The first is along the side in black ink:

John Hollamon Harwood
taken on his sixth birthday
March 31/94

The second is in blue ballpoint ink along the top and bottom:

Happy 40th
Birthday
Chuck!
XXX   Bill

Chuck @ 6 yr in 1894

I generally don't approve of annotations on antique photos that are made by a modern hand, but in this case Bill's gift tag adds an amusing twist to this charming picture. Was Chuck a violinist? We will probably never know.

With a full name, date and location on the photo it seemed simple enough to track down little John Hollamon Harwood, but it proved to be a bit more challenging. First off the name John Harwood is moderately common. And British public records do not list middle names as regularly as American records. 

But with a little digging I found the name of John Harwood in the 1891 England census for Waterloo, Lancashire, a town just north of Liverpool on the River Mersey. Harwood, age 55, was a "Boot & Shoe Manufacturer". His household included his wife Mary Harwood and three sons, John, Edward,  and Francis, along with three female servants. Except for the boys, all were born in Ireland. The oldest son was John H. Harwood, age 3, which fit with the date on the photo. But the best clue was their address, 14 & 16 Bath St. It was only 400 ft. to the Hartley Bros. studio on 2 South Road. A distance that Google Maps suggests takes a 2 minute walk.

 

We can now imagine Mrs. Harwood leading little John up the street to the photographer's gallery. The boy tries not to step into any puddles and spoil his new slippers from his father's shop. And clutching a small violin case Mr. Harwood wonders how many prints he will order. Perhaps he should send one to his old friend Chuck.

The lacy suit that John Hollamon Harwood wears was a fashion derived from Little Lord Fauntleroy, a fictional character in a children's novel by Frances Hodgson Burnett (1849 – 1924), a British-American novelist and playwright.  The story was first published as a serial in St. Nicholas Magazine, a popular American children's monthly from November 1885 to October 1886. It then was released as a book in 1886 by Scribner's, the publisher of St. Nicholas Magazine, with illustrations by Reginald B. Birch. These drawings helped make Burnett's book a best seller and like J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter books of our modern era, the gallant images of young Cedric Errol, the title character, created a craze for dressing boys in a Fauntleroy suit of velvet and lace trim. 

Elsie Leslie as Little Lord Fauntleroy (1888),
photograph by Napoleon Sarony, NYC
Source: Wikimedia

Curiously when the novel was adapted for the London stage in 1888, Cedric Earl was played by girl actor, Elsie Leslie (1881 – 1966). Photos of her in the role were reproduced and sold as souvenirs of the play. Interestingly Leslie also played the title role in a 1890 staging of Mark Twains' novel The Prince and the Pauper, a similar story of mixed-up kids and confused adults.

Over the past few years I have featured a number of boy violinists who wore a Fauntleroy suit for their portrait. These two boys from Chicago were in Boys Will Be Boys a recent story from October 2024. They are unidentified but I believe they were professional entertainers from the early 1890s.

And this trio of boys from Iowa are Sidney, Howard, and Percival, the Little Vernon Brothers who also dressed in velvet and lace as part of their traveling family band. The photo was taken in 1892 and in my story from July 2022 I have a longer section on how Little Lord Fauntleroy influenced fashion trends for boys in the last decades of the 19th century.  

As far as I know, Cedric Errol did not play a violin in Little Lord Fauntleroy. Yet as I have discovered from collecting old photos of child performers, after the sailor suit (Check out my story Three Boys in Sailor Suits) the velvet Fauntleroy suit with its lace collar and cuffs was the next most common concert costume for boy violinists. 

This boy posed in one at a photographer's studio in Boston, Massachusetts. Like John Harwood he has theatrical slippers, dark stockings, knee pants, and a jacket tricked out with shiny brass buttons and delicate lacework. He is older than the boy from Waterloo, having started that growth spurt that alarms mothers trying to keep their child in shoes, trousers and shirts that fit. At least lace is stretchy. 

The bottom of the cabinet card has the imprint of the  photographers' studio: Bushby, Macurdy, & Fritz of Temple Place in Boston. And just to the right is the printed name of the boy, Carl Peirce , a mark of a real entertainer's promotional photo. He was about eight years old when this was taken.  

10 December 1882 Boston Globe

In late November 1882, Carl Peirce made his first appearance in the amusement section of Boston's newspapers. Billed as "The child violinist whose wonderful execution at the age of eight years has won the admiration and astonishment of the best musicians and public generally" the notice announced his availability for concerts at "Lyceums, Churches, Lodges, and others..."  and included quotes from newspaper critics lavishing praise on Master Carl Peirce, a musical prodigy.

Carl Peirce was born on 10 January 1874 in Taunton, Massachusetts, about 35 miles south of Boston. He got his start on violin through his father, William P. Peirce, a druggist and also a talented violinist, who became his first manager. According to the notice Carl was studying with Signor (Leandro) Campanari, (1859 – 1939) an Italian violinist, conductor, and composer who came to Boston in 1881 when the Boston Symphony was first founded.  

16 March 1883 Boston Globe

The boy's first concerts were part of a larger concert company that included a pianist, four vocalists, and a clarinetist performing a varied program of high-culture music. Master Peirce's part consisted of playing solos like "Air et Varied" by Wieniawski, and "Gypsy Dance" by Paganini. This was music that would be challenging for a adult violinist and demonstrated a remarkable talent and skill for one so young.

16 October 1887 Boston Herald

Carl proved to be popular with Boston music patrons and for the next 8 years regularly performed a dozen concerts each season there. Most were presented as part of a larger concert troupe with his name receiving top billing. His father William P. Peirce acted as his manager and when Carl was older arranged for concerts in Maine, New Hampshire, and Vermont. In October 1887 Carl's portrait appeared in one Boston concert notice with a hair style and lace collar very similar to how he appears in my photograph. (The notice is incorrect that it was his "first appearance" in Boston.)

Of course no child prodigy stays young forever and inevitably grows up. After his father died in July 1895 at age 43, Carl Peirce seems to have set high goals that allowed him to continue pursuing a career in music. By his early twenties he was a reported as an active concert violinist in Boston and was now teaching music there, too. 

28 November 1902 Worcester MA Spy

In November 1902 Carl Peirce performed an unusual recital in Worcester, Massachusetts at the "warerooms" of music dealer M. Steinert & Sons. Carl was listed as the only performer but he was accompanied by an Aeolian Orchestrelle and a Pianolo. These were two types of self-playing keyboard instruments that could play music pneumatically triggered from data stored on perforated paper rolls. It was a very novel idea for its time and must have caused a small sensation for those who heard his concert.    

26 September 1903 Boston Herald

Around this time Carl was engaged to teach violin by the prestigious New England Conservatory of Music in Boston. In 1903 his name was listed as part of the string faculty which included Emil Mahr, Felix Winternitz, and Eugene Gruenberg. They were all members of the Boston Symphony Orchestra which Carl had also recently joined.  

1905 New England Conservatory yearbook,
THE NEUME

In 1905 The NEUME, the yearbook for the New England Conservatory published a long list of its faculty along with their photos. There was Carl Peirce, Violin dressed neatly with a concert white tie, but no lace. 

Carl Peirce taught violin at NEC for 40 years and in searching newspaper archive I found his name mentioned several times in the biographies of his successful former students. He died at his daughter's home in Newton, Massachusetts on 5 October 1960. He was 86. 

 

To finish I offer a short performance 
of Bach's Violin Partita No. 2 in D Minor, BWV 1004
performed by violinist Inmo Yang,
an Artist Diploma graduate from 2019
at the New England Conservatory. 
He studied with Miriam Fried
and performs on the Joachim-Ma Stradivarius violin
on loan from NEC.

I think Carl Peirce would have been very proud
to have had a student like Inmo Yang. 
Even if he doesn't wear a lace collar.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where everyone is outside
enjoying a garden tour.

The Romantic Violin, part 2

 

                                        If music be the food of love, play on;
                                        Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
                                                The appetite may sicken, and so die.
                                                That strain again! it had a dying fall:
                                                        O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,
                                                        That breathes upon a bank of violets,
                                                                Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:
                                                                'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.

William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night

Duke Orsino's words say it best. Music has special powers, especially when it comes to romance. All artists, of course, understand this and for ages have used musical instruments to convey the emotions of love and romance even though a painting makes no sound. 

We can certainly see that power depicted in this colorful postcard image of a young man playing his fiddle for a barefoot maiden. They are outside in a forest at night. The girl seems  enthralled by the melody. The boy may have different thoughts.

The card was posted from Wien, Austria on 26 July 1916 to Wohlgeboren ("well-born") Frau Leopoldine Cermack who was staying at the Kaiser's Jubiläums-Spital, the first public hospital in Wien, founded in 1907 on the 60th anniversary of the reign of Kaiser Franz Joseph. It is located near the Vienna Woods and when it opened in 1913 it had 19 "pavilions" with a capacity of 991 beds. It is now known as the Hietzing Clinic. 

The artist was Adolf Liebscher (1857 – 1919) a prolific Czech artist who specialized in paintings of historical events, often related to Bohemia–Czech history and people. By coincidence the postcard was sent just four months before the Kaiser's death on November 21, 1916 at age 86. In 1903 Liebscher painted a portrait of Franz Joseph I, Emperor of Austria, King of Hungary where he  is wearing a different outfit from his usual wardrobe of military uniforms. He posed in the robes of the Distinguished Order of the Golden Fleece, a Catholic order of chivalry founded in 1430 in Brugge by Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy. The Kaiser's lineage was historically connected to the Holy Roman Empire.

Emperor Franz Joseph
in the regalia of the Order of the Golden Fleece, 1903
by Adolf Liebscher (1857–1919)
Source: Wikimedia

* * *

Music can be very soporific, of course, which seems to be what happened to this sleepy young maiden who was listening to her sweetheart's violin. This painting follows a similar rustic setup as the previous artist but adds a touch of drama by placing the couple atop a mountain peak with thunderclouds in the distance.  

The postcard has a title captioned in Russian and French, Chagrin oublié ~ Forgotten Sorrow. Maybe it's because they both lost their shoes. It's going to be a long rocky hike down the mountain. The back of the card has a lengthy message in German but has no postmark or date. My guess is that it dates from around 1910-1918. Perhaps it was sent during the war by a German soldier from the eastern front in formerly Russian territory. 

The artist was Louis Gallait (1810 – 1887), a Belgian painter who established a noted reputation for paintings of historical people that respected the styles and colors of traditional folk costumes. Here is a painting of a country fiddler that Gallait made in 1849, a turbulent year for Europe. It is entitled Art and Liberty. 

Art and Liberty (1849)
by Louis Gallait (1810 – 1887)
Source: Wikipedia

* * *

While both paintings and music can tell stories, paintings are much better at narrating a scene. Here a young man is packing his violin into a trunk. It is already full of books and clothes. Is he about to set off on a journey? Perhaps to university? A young woman looks away as if she is about to cry. Is she his sweetheart? His sister? In the background on the right is another woman, someone's mother perhaps. 

On the back of the card is printed the title of the painting: Als ich Abschied nahm. ~ When I said goodbye, or in French: Le Départ ~ The departure.

 The postcard was sent on 20 August 1918 from Schwelm, a town in the state of North Rhine-Westphalia in western Germany near Wuppertal. 

The artist was Carl Zewy (1855 – 1929), an Austrian portrait and landscape painter. Zewy was born in Vienna and studied at the Vienna Academy and then at the Munich Art Academy as well. He was contemporary with two other Viennese artists that I collect Hermann Torggler, (1878-1939) and Fritz Schönpflug (1873–1951). Torggler also trained in Munich and many of his postcard etchings have a similar sentimentality. 

Zewy depicted musical instruments in several of his paintings that I found on the internet. This one has an older man playing violin and younger woman listening with a guitar. It's title is Die Musikstunde ~ The music lesson. Is it a sad story too? 

Die Musikstunde
by Karl Zewy (18
Source: MutualArt

* * *

One of the endearing qualities of music is how it is shared when musicians play together. In this picture a young couple are not yet making music, having either just finished or getting ready to play. The woman is seated at a piano and the man stands with a violin. A window casts a dreamy light on the scene. 

This card was entitled Souvenirs. It was sent from Nurnberg, Germany over military freepost on 23 March 1918.  The artist's name was W. V. Bioney, but I've been unable to find any information about him or her except other examples of this same postcard. It is likely a commercial artist working for a publisher to produce postcards that would appeal to lonely soldiers stationed far from home.

* * *

My last postcard shows a man seated with his back to the viewer as he plays a violin in front of a large portrait of a woman. A young girl sits on the floor next to him. A title is printed in English along the bottom edge: "ABSENT BUT NOT FORGOTTEN". It's clearly a sad picture about sorrow, memory, and bereavement. The way the man holds his bow as if in the middle of a musical phrase adds movement to the picture. 

This post was sent on 14 July 1913 from Wien to a man also residing in the city. The lower half is written in a spiky German cursive style, but the upper half is in a kind of weird quick script that looks a bit like shorthand. Perhaps a secret code or possibly a second writer who is has sloppy handwriting. A doctor perhaps? 

The artist of this painting was Clarence Frederick Underwood (1871 – 1929) one of America's leading commercial illustrators of the early 20th century. Born in Jamestown, New York, his family settled in Meadville, Pennsylvania. He received his formal art training in New York City, London, and Paris. On his return to New York, Underwood found work producing art for American publishing firms and marketing companies. His illustrations appeared in many books and magazines such as Harpers, McClure’s, The Saturday Evening Post, LIFE, and The Ladies’ World, as well as countless billboard advertisements. During the war, Underwood contributed many posters for recruiting, war bonds, and other public service advertisements. He is also credited with creating the first Palmolive Girl to sell soap and in 1926 the first female likeness featured in cigarette ads. Underwood also is reported to have coined the advertising phrase. "I'd walk a mile for a Camel (cigarette)." Clarence F. Underwood deserves to be better remembered but so far he does not have a Wikipedia entry. 

However the Crawford County Historical Society in Meadville, Pennsylvania does have an online exhibit which includes a section about the picture on my 1913 Austrian postcard. Underwood's  original title for this painting is "Serenading Grace" and it refers to his first wife, Grace Gilbert Curtis. They met in Paris and married on 9 May 1897. After returning to New York where Clarence established his studio, Grace gave birth to their daughter Valerie Gladys on December 22, 1898. But tragically a month later on January 27, 1899 Grace died. She was just 25 years old. This painting is Underwood's self-portrait, playing his violin in honor of his love for her. There is a poignant heartache in how the artist positioned his daughter with her back to the mother she would never know.

In 1905 Underwood married his second wife, Katherine Ann Spotswood and together they had two children. But on 11 June 1929 Clarence F. Underwood died suddenly in his studio at the age of 58. And to add further sadness to this story, Katherine died less than a year later on April 12, 1930 at age 47. 

I'll finish with another example of Underwood's musical illustrations, but this time with a piano and vocalist instead of a violin. One look at the two performers' expressions and we know that someone is either out of tune or behind, or both. 

The Solo
by Clarence F. Underwood (1871 – 1929)
Source: Invaluable.com

My interest in collecting artwork like these postcards is because I'm fascinated with how paintings of musicians and their musical instruments once had meaning and symbolism far beyond what  similar modern images convey in today's world. These pictures represent an artist's imagination and skill in portraying how music affects a person's emotions. I believe a violin was most often used because it had an easily recognized shape and familiar musical sound. It let people who bought these postcards instantly understand the suggestions of beautiful music, romance, nostalgia, and sadness too. Yet in our century we see far too many images selling junk that our sentiments are dulled and any true appreciation of beauty is very hard to find. 

For more musical art
check out
The Romantic Violin

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where everyone is at the beach
keeping a sharp lookout for sharks.

 

In the Saddle

 This gentle giant was named Bob.
He was the horsepower at the Shaw family farm
where he posed for the camera in August 1922.
The farm was near Pomfret, Maryland
on the western shore of the Chesapeake Bay,
where Bob's main chore was hauling wagons filled with tobacco.

Riding sideways is Blanche Shaw who is age 14,
Leading Bob is her cousin Loretta McGinness
and behind on the sledge
are her two younger sisters Edna and Edith Shaw.
Many years latter I would recognize Blanche's shy smile
as Grandma, my mother's mother.

This was a very patient, painted pony.
It's name was Sally
and it was 1935
as notated by the photographer
on the stirrup.

The little girl with the Shirley Temple curls
 is not yet five years old.

I can see in her smile
that she is excited and thrilled
to meet this new animal friend,
even though her legs are not long enough
for her feet to fit into the stirrups,
much less attempt any barrel racing.
It's a picture of my mom,
Barbara Dobbin. 

According to my dad's notes on the print

which he made from a scan many years latter,
the photo was taken, without her parent's permission,
in Glenwood, Minnesota as a gift 
for her grandfather, William Dobbin
who lived there.
He must have loved this photo
as much as I love it too.

This gallant steed was also very patient
though he was inclined to buck
when given a spur.
His name was Horsey.

The rider is just age two 
and to judge by his expression
he is not thrilled to be in the saddle.

The trainer is helpfully restraining Horsey
from any sudden twist or spring. 
He is my dad, then Lieutenant Russ Brubaker,
who was in the army but not in the cavalry.
The worried jockey is me, my younger self.

Today Horsey sleeps
in a pasture up in our attic.
It's quiet there,
with a few stuffed dogs and raggedy bears
to keep him company.

Every few years

he gets a rubdown
and an inspection of his stall. 
He looks smaller than I remember.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where donkey's years are very, very long.