A Lady from Baltimore

 

This is Ann.
She had this photo taken
in Baltimore, Maryland.
She paid 25¢ for four.
Plus tax.

She represents an example of what I call "people of the shadows"—the subjects who sat still long enough for a  camera to capture their likeness during the first decades of photography. The alchemy of early photographs—daguerreotypes, ambrotypes, and ferrotypes, that is tintypes like Ann's photo, translated light that went through a camera's lens into subtle tones of waxy whites, chalky grays, and dense blacks. These phototypes lacked the chemistry to record true colors, though occasionally a photographer, as in Ann's tintype,  would apply little tints of red to cheeks or lips when processing the image. The general effect of these early photo processes created portraits of people in somber clothing seemingly surrounded by dim backgrounds, hence "people of the shadows." Nonetheless these early photo processes could achieve a remarkable clarity that rivals modern photographs.

But the other reason I call them people of the shadows is that these early phototypes rarely display any information about the subjects. People are usually anonymous, their names, dates, and location unknown. The first generations of fragile daguerreotypes and ambrotypes came in protective wooden cases that often have no imprints for a photographer's name or place of business. Tintypes, being made of thin iron sheet, were more durable photos but often became separated from their paper envelopes and few have marks for names or dates scratched onto the metal backs.

So without good clues to figure out the basics of who, when, and where, these photos can be a very challenging if not impossible puzzles to solve.  

Ann's portrait is an exception.
It contains a surprising amount of information.
Yet, as I will explain,
she still remains partly in the shadows.

  

This is the full image of her photo scanned without any digital correction. Her photo is pasted into a paper mount the same size as a carte de visite, 3 7/8" x 2 3/8" with her face centered in an elegant embossed oval cartouche pattern. The tintype is much smaller and rectangular. It is a  called a 1/16th plate size about 1 7/8" high and 1 5/8" wide. In the upper right is a signature which we will examine in a moment,         

The back has a full printed advertisement for the photographer.

FROM
The Original 25 cent
Gem Picture Gallery
No. 9 N. Gay Street
G. W, Hewitt & Co.
4 of this style Pictures.    _    25 Cents.
Large size Photographs,    _    _    $1.50
Duplicates,    _    _    _    _    _    _    1.00
Cartes de Viste, Per Doz.    _    _        2.00

GEO. W. HEWITT
Manufacturer of
Square and Oval Gilt Frames.
Looking Glass Mirrors,
Bracket Tables, &c.
also on hand a fine assortment of
Albums, Stereoscopes and Views,
Engravings. Figures, &c.,  50 per
cent [c]heaper than any other estab-
lishment [in] the city.  Pictures of all
kinds copied at the shortest notice.
No. 9 Gay Street,
Photograph & Frame Gallery

Mr. Hewitt's advertisement is printed on a separate paper that was applied over the photo. It shows through as an eight-sided outline of the metal plate. "Gem" tintypes, ½" x 1", are very small, hardly bigger than a postage stamp, but I think this photo was offered as a gem and was produced in the same manner using a camera with four lens. Here is an illustration of a similar camera featured in an 1872 handbook on ferrotype photography. The tintype metal plate was inserted wet with emulsion into the camera back and when exposed the four lens created four images at one time. After developing and fixing the plate was cut into four individual photos.    

The Climax Camera, No 43, fited with four ¼ lenses
Source: The Ferrotype and how to Make it 
by Edward M. Estabrooke 

Here is a second camera with nine lens for making smaller photos. The process could produce nine duplicates of a single sitting, or nine separate images opening each lens one at a time.

The Success Camera O, fitted with nine 1/9th 
and four 1/4th lenses
Source: The Ferrotype and how to Make it
by Edward M. Estabrooke

What makes this photo special is a blue 2¢ U. S. Internal Revenue stamp in the upper corner on the back of the tintype's paper mount. It was affixed before Mr. Hewitt pasted on his gallery's advertisement on top of it. Then he marked it with a rubberstamp date: Feb 17, 1866. 

It was a Saturday. On this day former Confederate general Robert E. Lee was in Washington, D. C. to testify before a Congressional Joint Committee on Reconstruction. The committee members had tough questions for him regarding Southern attitudes to war debts, the status of freedmen, and the conditions of reconstruction.

This date was just 8 months and 22 days after the end of America's terrible Civil War. Though the world was now moving on, most Americans were still divided by the horrendous assassination of President Abraham Lincoln on April 14, 1865 and the complex political mess it provoked in the postwar period. This blue tax stamp was a small remanent of four years of the war's hardships as it was first introduced in the Revenue Act of 1862 to help the Federal government fund the war through an excise tax on a wide variety of goods, services and legal dealings. 

Photographs were still a modern novelty when the war started. As tintypes and carte de visites became more popular due to their cheaper price the Internal Revenue department passed a 'photograph tax' in August 1864 that required photographers to pay a tax on the sale of their products. This proprietary tax was applied to several other widely used products, such as cotton, tobacco and alcohol. Even though the war was officially ended on 26 May 1865 the tax had persisted, since, of course, the Federal government still needed to pay its debts. Obviously this still upset many people so Congress repealed the tax on 1 August 1866, two years exactly after it was imposed.

Mr. Hewitt was one of Baltimore's businessmen to take exception to this lingering tax. So he ran advertisements in local newspapers explaining why he need to raise prices.

Baltimore Sun
29 January 1866

 Card to the Public

              Having been the first to introduce to the public
            of Baltimore Four Gem Pictures for 25 cents,
            making our calculations for 6 per cent. ad valo-
            rem tax, we are now authorized by the commis-
            sioners of internal revenue to affix to each and
            every card issued from our establishment a two
            cent stamp, which will be a stamp tax of 32 per
            cent.  Not wishing to vary from our regular
            prices, we will still continue to take
                       Four Gun Pictures for 25 Cents.
            But we will be compelled to charge our cus-
            tomers 10 cents extra for stamping.
              We have made no alteration in the price of our
            large pictures, as 5 per cent. is all the govern-
            ment requires on them, but 32 per cent. being
            more than our net profits on our small pictures
            our customers will have to pay it.
              We cordially thank the citizens of Baltimore
            for the kind patronage they have so liberally ex-
            tended to us.  We will hereafter show our grati-
            tude by furnishing them with pictures that can-
            not be surpassed by any other Establishment of
            the kind in the city.
                          Geo. W. Hewitt & Co..
                           No. 9 North Gay street.

So when Ann bought a set of four portrait Gems, she paid a total of 35¢ which was a not insubstantial amount consider that many workers in Maryland earned 10¢<15¢ an hour in 1866.  

The photographer George Washington Hewitt was born on the 4th of July 1838 in Baltimore, the son of John Hill Hewitt (1801—1890) a noted poet and prolific composer and author. Though he was from New York City, Hewitt the elder made his career in the southern states and became a rival of both the poet Edgar Allen Poe and the song writer Stephen Foster. 

His son George W. Hewitt seems to have started his business as a carver and gilder in the late 1850s with an address at No. 23 West Fayette street in Baltimore. In May of 1861, just a month after the Civil War began, he ran a newspaper ad that showed he was a bit of an entrepreneur.  

WAR !–WAR !–WAR !– INTENSE EXCITEMENT.—Great Sacrifice in beautiful GILT OVAL FRAMES, for Photographs.  Your choice for One Dollar, at the Original One Dollar Frame Store.

 

Baltimore Sun
23 May 1861

Note the other promotions for a book entitled "The Soldier's Guide" which was marketed as a useful military handbook to young men who were volunteering for the Federal army.

In 1863 Hewitt was listed at 9 N. Gay street in the Baltimore city directory under "Looking Glass and Picture Frame Makers." In his advertisements this address was his store while his factory was on West Fayette street. In May 1863 he included a photographer Mr. W. E. Cook who "occupies a portion of the same store for the sale of Cabinet Photographs, a new style of picture, taken from original Oil Paintings in France and England." By the following year the partnership with Mr. Cook seems finished but Hewitt then begins offering his patrons Gem ferrotypes and larger photos as his gallery of frames and mirrors. 

Baltimore Sun
14 May 1863

By 1867 George W. Hewitt is no longer residing in Baltimore, but has moved south to Staunton, Virginia in the Shenandoah Valley. He sets up a decorator's shop dealing in wall paper and upholstery. Occasionally he also tuned and repaired pianos, but as far as I can determine he never took up photography again. He died in Staunton in 1906 at age 68. He was remembered with an obituary in both Staunton and Baltimore newspapers. 

Now it's time to look at a signature 
What name can you read?

I think it spells  Ann L Polona or Poloma. The short first name is written with a downward flourish that I think is just decorative but it could be Anny L. The surname is very unusual and I have tried countless different interpretations of the letters. The shape of the letters conform to cursive handwriting standards of 19th century English and the capitals A, L, P are quite consistent.  According to Google's AI,  Polona has "Slavic and Eastern European roots related to Poland", while Poloma is a Spanish name derived from the Spanish word paloma, meaning "dove" 

But I can't find her. No one named Ann L Polona/Poloma is listed in any official records or city directories from anywhere in the United States, much less Baltimore in 1866. Her name is not found in any newspaper archives either. All I could find were a few people with variant spelled surnames but those people lived in latter decades. It is a curious place to put a penciled signature curved around to fit the corner. Perhaps it's not the name of the woman photographed in 1866 but the name of a recipient she gave it to. Or maybe it's the name of a collector who bought the photo in 1946 or 2006. Who knows? I really can't tell. 

It's frustrating to have a perfect trifecta of antique photo information on name, place, and date and not be able to confirm a the most important identification—the subject's name. Of course women's names are always a challenge to research since they usually, but not always, adopt a new surname on marriage. Is there a Mr. Polona/Poloma? I've looked, and looked again, and still fail to find anyone who would fit the other facts from this tintype from Baltimore.

But I can do one thing more. I can flip the photo from its positive mirror image created by the tintype process into her real face which we would have seen when Ann visited Mr. Hewitt's gallery in February 1866. Somehow that lightens her features to bring her a little bit out of the shadows that conceal her identity. 

She appears to be an attractive mature young woman, late 20s or mid 30s, with beautiful dark eyes and high cheekbones. Her hair is dark, too, and pulled tight back in the feminine style of this era, but I detect a hint of wave or curl. Below her ears are what looks like oval earrings but I think they are some kind of fastener that holds her hair. A locket tied tight around her neck is large and could have a carved design. It might hold a small photo, perhaps a picture of a husband or sweetheart. In 1866 that could be a treasured memento of a beloved lost in the war. Which may explain her serious expression. Yet she doesn't look so much sad as thoughtful. What is she thinking about?

Mr. Hewitt's gallery at No. 9 N. Gay street in Baltimore was in the city's central business district. It was less than a half mile to his frame factory at No. 23 West Fayette. Baltimore's city hall was just a block away, and the city's ship docks were only 4 blocks south. Also very close were a couple of major theatres that offered all kinds of entertainment, even during the war, including minstrel shows, melodramas, and opera. These traveling troupes would play in Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Washington, and Baltimore, too. Many included on their playbills performers from Europe—England, France, Germany, Italy, even Spain or South America. 

It seems quite possible that Ann L Polona/Poloma might be connected to one of these touring theatrical or opera companies. Her name, like many entertainers of the day, could be a stage name, invented to sound more artistic. Since entertainers lived in hotels without any settled residence, they were rarely recorded in census reports or city directories. Their names might be attached to a newspaper review if they were a star, but not if they were a supporting actor or the spouse of an entertainer. It's only a guess but imagination is all I have left to answer the question of her identity.

Sometimes people of the shadows leave only the essence of their humanity. The details of their lives and loves are unknown. Their past and future forever concealed. Their relations with other people a mystery. Yet their sepia tone photograph presents us with a face that makes us wonder. Who was this person? What were they like? Why did they pose for this picture? 

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where fine portraits are a dime a dozen.

The Well-dressed Trombonist - Under the Eagle

 

The America Bald Eagle has been the symbol of our nation since 1782 when Congress chose it for the design of the Great Seal of the United States. With wings spread wide, an eagle's talons grasp 13 arrows in its left foot and an olive branch with 13 leaves in its right. In its beak is a ribbon with the Latin phrase: E Pluribus Unum ("Out of many, one"). 

Great Seal of the United States
Source: Wikimedia

In 1775 during the Revolutionary War, General George Washington had his officers display cockades on their hats to distinguish their rank. Initially he wanted these decorative knots of ribbons or rosettes in different colors so that "the field officers may have red or pink colored cockades in their hats, the captains yellow or buff, and the subalterns green.” But by 1777 his ragged army from the 13 colonies changed to using a simple black cockade, which, not by chance, happened to be the Hanoverian color of King George III.

In February 1778 the United States signed a Treaty of Alliance with France. Since the color favored by the French King Louis XVI was white, Washington ordered his soldiers to display a new Alliance Cockade on their hats that was black with a white center. The supporting French troops likewise wore an Alliance Cockade of white with a black center.

When George became President in 1789 among his many new responsibilities was deciding on appropriate uniform colors and insignia for the U.S. military. The old black cockades wouldn't work since that were still a British army style. The white on black was similarly politically incorrect since France had adopted a new tricolor of  blue, white and red as a symbol of its recent revolution. (Poor Louis XVI tried to wear one but it didn't really suit his hat.) 

To solve this fashion problem some clever Americans came up with an easy solution that Washington approved—putting an eagle pin onto the center of a black rose cockade. On 9 January 1799 his Secretary of War, James McHenry, ordered "All persons belonging to the army, to wear a black cockade, with a Small white Eagle in the centre. The cockade of non-commissioned officers, musicians and privates, to be of leather, with Eagles of tin." 

This pin depicted an eagle with down-swept wings sitting on a bank of clouds. That design lasted hardly more than a decade when in 1812 it was changed to suit another war with King George III, this time adding arrows and an olive branch to the eagle. In 1821 it was reworked again by removing the clouds and setting the eagle with outstretched wings and a shield on its breast. With only small alterations, over the next two centuries that eagle design became the standard insignia worn by officers and troops in the U. S. Army. My dad wore one on his hats during his 25 year career as an army officer.

  

Today, in honor of the 250th anniversary of America's Declaration of Independence I present a collection of eagles worn by bandsmen, mostly trombonists, who served in regimental bands. The bandsmen also wear a pointy headgear that for a few decades in the late 19th century was the fashionable helmet used by most military bands and troops. 

My first trombonist posed in a photographer's studio leaning casually on a fine upholstered chair in front of a painted scene with weird perspective. It's a half-plate tintype, more correctly called a ferrotype, about 6¼ x 4½ inches, an uncommon  size that's larger than other tintypes of musicians in my collection. His dark color uniform, I'm guessing maroon red, has a cut-away jacket adorned with three rows of brass buttons. His hat is a style resembling British police helmets called custodian helmets first used by the London Metropolitan Police in 1870. 

Since this photo is a tintype it is a unique image that could not be reproduced. Light captured by the collodion emulsion on an iron plate created a reversed image like a mirror. Sharp eyes might have noticed that this man's button seam is on the wrong side and he seems to be holding a left-handed trombone. 

   

Flipping the image with digital software puts the instrument in its proper orientation, bell on left shoulder and slide on right. It also puts the eagle's arrows on the correct side of the insignia. I'm not sure about the cord hanging from his helmet. It may be a chin strap released for the photo. He looks like a young man in his early 20s or even late teens. Notice the photographer has tinted his cheeks pink. I bet it made his mother proud.

* * *
* * * * *
* * * * *

This next photo is a cabinet photo of two bandsmen and a soldier, all wearing pointy helmets with white plumes. There is no mark for photographer or location. All I can guess is they are members of a state militia band somewhere in the United States in the late 19th century. Such bands were made of professional musicians who were hired as a group to perform for a state guard regiment's annual training camps and civic parades. The bandsmen did not serve in the regular army and were paid by each regiment. In 19th century America the most popular entertainment in every town or city was a parade. Any opportunity to rally around the flag and march along with a band excited the public. Regimental bands competed with each other to provide the best music and present the most splendid uniforms.

The two bandsmen play brass instruments and the one seated on the right holds a piston valve instrument with a large bell. The plumbing looks long enough to be a kind of folded up valve trombone. It might be a flugelhorn or bass trumpet, but for the purpose of my theme I'll call it a trombone. I'm sure it sounded the same notes. 

The bandsman on the left has a standard cornet, possibly the higher E-flat model. Their uniforms are very ornate with striped trousers, fancy embroidery and fringed epaulettes. There is a subtle nod to the Grand Seal of the United States as their button embroidery are leaves with thirteen points.

The soldier standing guard in the center is an unusual addition to this trio. Except for his pointy helmet, his unform is very different. He wears a longer coat with white gloves and holds a rifle with a long bayonet fixed to the end. I would not want to be challenged by him for the password of the day.

* * *
* * * * *
* * * * *

This bandsman's portrait is an unusual long 7½ x 4¼ inch Promenade mount but, like the previous photo, has no name of the photographer. The expanded size would have been suitable for a regular slide trombone but this fellow has a stubby piston valve trombone like the previous unknown bandsman. He cuts a fine figure with his trim uniform jacket which has three rows of buttons, a wide white belt and fringed epaulettes.

Piston valve trombones were popular in the 19th century as three valves simplified a traditional trombone's slippery slide system of infinite pitch. Different makers came up with several compact plumbing patterns which made the instrument easier to play while marching in a parade or mounted on a horse. 

According to my copy of the Encyclopedia of United States Army Insignia and Uniforms by William K. Emerson, his helmet eagle is a design from 1881 which added a banner in the eagle's beak. The shield would typically have the regiment's number. His helmet plume was white horsehair and on a detachable mount.

* * *
* * * * *
* * * * *

This next bandsman is another member of the three valved trombone society. He is seated with a casual crossed leg, fingers on the valve buttons, looking direct at us as if to ask, "Have we met before?" His uniform is similar to the previous bandsmen's kit though this man's epaulette fringe seems longer and he wears a white cross-sash belt, attached to which is a small satchel marked HOLYOKE.  His eagle is looking left not right, so I think it pre-dates the previous bandsman, maybe late 1870s. I think he uses a softer conditioner on his plume too. He looks like an affable chap who could tell a good story.

The photographer on this cabinet card photo has an imprint on the back, J. D. Crane Photographic Studio, of No. 63 Dwight St., Holyoke, Massachusetts. Duplicates can be had at any time.  

* * *
* * * * *
* * * * *

My final trombonist under the eagle is pictured on a tintype, in a more typical 3¾ x 2¼ inch format. He wears a white coat with three rows of buttons and lots of gold braid knots, simple shoulder boards instead of fringe epaulettes, and a custodian helmet with a point but without a plume. This photo is fairly dark like most tintypes, but my digital software improves the contrast. His instrument is a B-flat tenor slide trombone which has hardly changed from the sackbut, the trombone's Renaissance ancestor, and remains the same as trombones seen in today's modern bands and orchestras. 

As I often do with tintypes, I reverse the image to the subject's true aspect. This places his trombone in the right orientation but it also revealed a very important detail that was not visible in the other bandsmen's photos. 

It's a number on the eagle.

A regiment number more significant

in the history of American bands
than any other number.

The number is 22, which makes this trombonist a member of one of the most celebrated professional bands of the 19th century, the Band of the Twenty Second Regiment of New York. It was lead by Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore (1829–1892), an Irish-American composer and military bandmaster who immigrated to Boston in 1848. As a young man he established himself as a talented musician and bandleader with a variety of bands. In 1861 at the start of the Civil War, Gilmore's Band joined the 24th Massachusetts Volunteers, accompanying General Ambrose Burnside to North Carolina and later playing for Federal troops in New Orleans. He is credited with writing the lyrics to the song "When Johnny Comes Marching Home". Gilmore expanded a concert band instrumentation to include a larger woodwind section that made his band sound more like an orchestra. 

Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore (1829–1892)
Bandleader of the 22nd Regiment Band, c. 1890−92
Source: Wikimedia

After the war Patrick Gilmore organized massed orchestra and band concerts  with gigantic choruses for the National Peace Jubilee in 1869 and the World's Peace Jubilee and International Musical Festival in 1872. His success in Boston established him as the leading bandmaster of the postwar era. 

In 1873 Gilmore was invited to New York City to take over the band of the 22nd Regiment. This regiment was one of the premier elite state guards which was supported by many wealthy New York families. The band was its public image and with Gilmore it soon became known as "Gilmore's Band." 

Brooklyn Daily Times
21 March 1874

In New York the 22nd Regiment Band competed with fine bands from the 23rd and 7th Regiments. Band concerts were regular features in New York's society season and regimental bands offered a wide variety of music and solo artists. On one concert in March 1874 Gilmore promoted his friend, the great cornetist Matthew Arbuckle (1828–1883), and the saxophone virtuoso Edward A. Lefebre (1834–1911) who introduced New Yorkers to this new novel French instrument. He also had a trombone soloist, Herr Letsch on the same program.

Yonkers, NY Gazette
5 February 1881

 

Many instrumentalists in Gilmore's 22nd Regiment Band earned star billing on his programs and became as well known in New York's entertainment world as stage actors or opera singers. In a concert performed in February 1881 Gilmore listed a trombone soloist named C. Kappa. This was Carlo Alberto Cappa (1834–1893), an Italian-American trombonist who would go on to become a bandmaster in his own right. He is best remembered for leading the celebrated Seventh Regiment Band of New York which I recently featured on this blog in The Seventh Regiment Band, 

Rochester, NY Journal & Post Express
18 September 1883

In September 1883 at a concert in Rochester, New York, Gilmore listed another solo trombonist named Herr Stolz. These regimental bands attracted talented musicians from many nations like Germany, Italy, France, Belgium, and Great Britain. Gilmore's choice of the best soloists helped accelerate the growth of band music in America, especially because these bands also toured the country performing at expositions and state fairs. And everywhere they went, the band marched in a parade.

The Seventh Regiment Band on March
Harper's Weekly, vol. 33, 16 March 1889
Source: HathiTrust.org

This illustration from a March 1889 article in Harper's Weekly shows the Seventh Regiment Band marching on parade. The bandsmen wear tall white helmets with dark plums and dark tunics. The trombone section is in the front rank as their drum major leads the way. The postcard photo in my recent story on The Seventh Regiment Band was taken in 1905 when the band's uniforms, though still brilliant. had changed with the fashions of a new century. By 1900 guard regiments had replaced the pointy custodian helmet with more practical headgear. But for a time it was where the American eagle soared, sparkling atop the heads of spectacular marching bands. 

I will finish this collection of vintage trombonists
with a 2022 performance by the trombone section
of the United States Air Force Band with guest artist
George Curran, bass trombonist of the New York Philharmonic
in a Henry Fillmore's circus screamer, "Rolling Thunder".

And since I post this story on the 4th of July,
it seems fitting to hear the trombone quartet
of The United States Army Field Band
perform the "The Star-Spangled Banner" our national anthem.
It was  arranged by bass trombonist Master Sgt. Wesley Ballenger. 

Please stand.

For more trombonists wearing pointy hats
and fancy uniforms check out:

The Well-Dressed Trombonist
The Well-dressed Trombonist - Valve and Plume Edition
More Tinplated Brass, the Uniform Edition

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where London bridges can sometimes fall up, too.

Fashionable Tin

 

What does a photo portrait reveal?

A person's facial features, of course,

and maybe their age too.
Though that's usually
a subjective quality
that's hard to determine
in unidentified subjects.
And likewise the color
of eyes or hair
is a just a guess
in antique sepia tone photos.

If the camera is positioned far enough away
a person's clothing is included in the frame
so that a taste for fashion can be ventured.

Handmade or store bought?
Velvet or gingham?
Light pink or dark green?

But personality?
Not so much.
A frown does not indicate
a lack of good humor.
A dull eye is not a sign
of a dull mind.
A bland expression 
does not prove an uncaring heart.

A photograph is just
a fleeting moment in a person's life.
Only their family and friends
knew their genuine nature.  

Today I present three anonymous young women
who posed for a camera a long time ago.
Unbeknownst to them
their little tintype photos
recorded personal styles
that surprisingly resemble
future fashion trends from our time. 

A tintype or ferrotype is with a unique photographic process that captures an image like a mirror. That is, the light reflected on the emulsion of the metal plate reverses itself creating a positive image like a mirror does. So a tintype photo, despite its clarity and focus, is actually not a true-to-life image like in a modern photograph. However with computer software I can easily flip the image and transform it into a realistic likeness of a person. That's what I've done here with the first young woman's photo. It makes a subtle difference, but I think it allows a viewer to better appreciate a person's face. 

One of the most striking things to observe in antique portraits is how people dressed and styled their hair. Most women in the 19th century did not cut their hair and usually arranged it neatly in a coil or bun. From 1845 to 1900, in the early age of photography, women appear in photos with various hair fashions ranging from slick oiled hair pulled tightly at the back to elaborate coiffures with braids, waves, and curls. 

But this girl chose an unconventional hair style that is almost breezy and unkempt. It does not fit with the common fashions seen in most portraits of both young and mature women. I can't say for sure, of course, but she is only a teenager I think. Maybe around age thirteen to sixteen. Surely not more than nineteen. To my 21st century eye she looks more like a girl from the 1960s-70s. It's frizzy pop star hair, a bit like Janis Joplin, Carly Simon, or Maria Muldaur.

I bought this tintype mainly because I thought it was good example of this photograph medium and also because she had such an unusual, even chic, quality that was outside the norm for this period. The photo is small, 1.5 inches (4 cm) by 2.0 inches ( 5 cm).

* * *

A year later I found a second tintype portrait of another young lady with a very similar hair style. Like the other girl, this girl has medium long hair in curled locks and then casually gathered up by a ribbon band around her head. Again I have reversed the original tintype to show her true features. The photographers in both portraits dabbed some pink color onto the girls' cheeks. It is stronger on this girl but her downward gaze gives her a sad expression. 

The back of the tintype has remnants of a paper matt or envelope. Someone has written a cryptic note: #7EL. This photo is larger than the others, about 1.75 inches (4.5 cm) by 2.75 inches (7 cm).

* * *

My third girl comes displayed in her original paper frame. She is older, maybe 18-19 or even in her twenties. Like the other two she has the same frizzled hair tied with a ribbon but adds a flower and a second ribbon around her neck. She also has pink cheeks and a serious, if not glum, countenance.

This photo is about the same size as the first one, what is called a Gem size, but the paper envelope has dimensions similar to a carte de visite photo, about 2.5 inches (6.5 cm) by 4.0 inches (10 cm). Since tintype photos are made on an iron sheet coated with japanned black enamel, the material doesn't invite annotations in pencil or ink. The paper envelopes may have space for a date or name but are very fragile and easily lost. Finding one that has been preserved makes it special. Tintypes like these were popular from around 1860 to 1885. They were relatively easy for a photographer to make and develop quickly. Many tintype photographers set up a trade at amusement parks and on seaside resort boardwalks. They usually cost about 25 cents.

The back of this photo shows how the little tintype was held in the frame by a piece of newspaper pasted onto the envelope.  

The paper backing is clipped from the top left corner of a newspaper page. Another bit of black paper adheres to the back and probably comes from an album page where the photo was once stored. There is enough of the newsprint to make out a report on "The Latest Postage..." which lists postage fees for letters, pamphlets, and registered mail. Unfortunately there is no name, place, or date. But the report reads like a federal notice so I wondered, could I find a similar one in the newspaper archives? 

I could indeed. The same words were in a report from the West Chester, Pennsylvania Local News published on 2 January 1874. 

West Chester, PA Local News
2 January 1874

The report is verbatim to the clipped portion on the photo. Though I found the same report published in other newspapers in other years there were slight differences in the regulatory text. It leads me to believe that this particular girl had her photo taken sometime around 1873 to 1874, though not necessarily in Pennsylvania. Whether this is the time frame for the other two girls, I can't say, but it seems safe to place them in the same 1870s decade.  

The full report also includes the 1874 U. S. postal rate for letters to foreign addresses. For mail to Germany and Great Britain it was 6 cents per ½ ounce. France and Italy was 10 cents. Russia 11 cents. Letters to China via San Francisco was only 10 cents using American steamers but 28 cents using British mail service. Likewise South Africa was 28 cents too.

I'm not sure what, if anything, connects these three portraits.
They have an exotic quality that suggests
the girls have a youthful free spirit.

Their unorthodox hair fashion might be influenced
by their ethnic or national heritage,
or a favorite romance book or operetta,
or just normal teenage rebellion.
Beyond that we really can't infer much more
without resorting to our modern prejudices
and preconceptions.
Let's just call them pretty.

 

I'll finish with some appropriate music.
Here is Irving Berlin's hit song
from the “The Ziegfeld Follies Of 1919”

"A Pretty Girl Is Like A Melody"

 

This was the first recording of this song,
as sung by the tenor John Steel who made it famous
in the first Broadway production of the "Follies".
It was recorded by the Victor Talking Machine Co.

in Camden, New Jersey on June 30, 1919.

Sheet music cover to
"A Pretty Girl Is Like A Melody" 
by Irving Berlin, 1919
Source: Wikipedia

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where smoking is strictly prohibited
except in restricted galleries.