Category Archives: Antiques

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Whistle-Blower: An 1887 Metropolitan Police Whistle

The chilly winter air, the flurries of snow, the heaving, choking smog, the hissing, flickering luminescence of gas-fired streetlamps. Footsteps in the distance. Somewhere, a clock-tower chimes midnight.

Suddenly, a scrambling of feet! A struggle! The sound of a body falling, and the distant ‘splash!’ of something heavy hitting the water.

A moment of silence. And then the crisp midnight air is sliced in half with the shrill, discordant screeching sound of a whistle…

The Victorian era was obsessed with four things: Crime, death, standardisation, and modernisation. In sixty years, technology advanced by leaps and bounds unheard of in previous lifetimes, and one object encapsulated all these things in one – one of the most iconic items associated with the Victorian era: The humble Metropolitan Police Whistle.

The Origins of the London Metropolitan Police

Established by Sir Robert Peel in 1829, the “New Police” or to give it its proper title: The London Metropolitan Police, was the world’s first modern police force – a state-run organisation of paid, professional officers, designed specifically to detect, deter, and solve crimes.

Prior to this time, ‘policing’ was often carried out by the civic guard, soldiers, parish constables, or the night watch, as in Rembrandt Van Rjin’s famous painting…

“De Nachtwacht” (“The Night Watch”) by Rembrandt Van Rjin

Here, you can see the men of the night watch, armed and protected with pikes and halberds (in the background), helmets, and muzzle-loading muskets (on the left and right).

The whole concept of the police was so new that Peel wasn’t even sure how it was supposed to operate. For example, police were originally expected to be on duty at all times, and to wear their uniform at all times. Then they changed it so that an armband on the sleeve of the uniform indicated whether the officer was, or was not, on duty. Finally, they decided that officers would only be on duty when they wore their uniforms, and did not have to wear them when they were not on duty!…things were very confusing! And it only got even more confusing when they actually had to fight crimes in progress.

The new London police service patrolled the streets day and night, working in timed shifts which covered specific quarters of the city (known as ‘beats’). If a policeman did one thing more than any other – it was walking. In the days before telephones and emergency-service numbers, a physical, visible police presence on the streets was the best way to detect and deter crime.

But what happened when crime was detected? A constable might try and combat the criminal himself, but if this wasn’t possible, then he would need to call for backup. This was usually done by beating his truncheon against fence-railings or along the pavement, or by swinging a heavy, wooden rattle round and round and round. The blades of the rattle snapped and clapped back and forth along the ratchet inside, making an almighty racket!

The problem was that the rattle was bulky, difficult to carry, heavy (it had to be large enough to make a loud-enough noise to be heard over the traffic, don’t forget), and it could easily be taken by a criminal and used as a club to attack the officer, if he so desired. On top of that, despite the rattle’s size and weight, it was not always distinguishable over the sounds of a busy city – thousands of pedestrians, horses, carriage wheels, market cries and the sounds of industry could easily drown it out.

This was why, in the 1880s, the police, finally fed-up with this inefficiency, decided to rethink the equipment issued to constables on the beat.

Enter a man named Joseph Hudson.

Joseph Hudson & Co – Whistle Makers

Joseph Hudson was a Birmingham toolmaker and whistle-manufacturer who had established his business in 1870. Moderately successful, Hudson was quick to see that what the police needed was not a heavy, bulky rattle, but something small, lightweight, easy to carry, and which could produce a deafening noise!…They needed whistles! And by gum, he was going to be the fellow who was going to provide them!

A competition was announced in the London Times newspaper, and competitors were encouraged to submit their entries, which would be compared and tested. Hudson started manufacturing his whistle, trying to find a design which would be loud, distinct, and portable. The story is often told that he got the idea for how the whistle should sound when he knocked his violin off his workbench. The twanging, reverberating strings gave him the idea that the whistle should be two-toned – one blow by the user should produce two different notes. Combined, they would not only be louder, but also very distinctive – anybody hearing the whistle would know at once that it was a police whistle.

The Original Metropolitan Police Whistle

Hudson’s whistle performed admirably in tests conducted by the police. It was loud, had a long audible range, was compact, lightweight, robust, and distinct. The police liked it so much that they asked Mr. Hudson to start manufacturing these new whistles at once! Joseph Hudson was so eager to fulfill his enormous new contract that a lot of the earliest whistles came with manufacturing faults, and had to be sent back to the factory for repairs – awkward…

The whistle and its chain

But eventually, they got the manufacturing processes and quality-control up to snuff, and in 1883, the London Metropolitan Police started carrying the new whistles. Rattles were to be handed in as soon as possible, and the new whistle was to be introduced to the force to replace it. Originally, the whistle was hooked onto the uniform tunic with a chain, and the whistle hung straight down the front. This proved to be less than ideal – the whistle and chain would flop around if the officer had to engage in a foot-pursuit, or a suspect could grab the whistle and pull it away from the officer.

Later, police regulations were changed so that the whistle was stored in the breast-pocket of the uniform tunic, with the chain-hook going through the buttonhole of the nearest available button. The chain hung out of the pocket in a “U” shape. This arrangement allowed for inspectors to see that their officers were carrying their whistles, while also keeping them out of sight. The hanging chain also made it easy for the officer to pull his whistle out quickly in an emergency, but wasn’t so long that a suspect could grab hold of the chain during a scuffle. This arrangement is still used today with police dress-uniforms.

The hook at the end of the whistle-chain

Police whistles were largely made of either nickel-silver, a nickel-alloy, or else were made of brass, and later plated in nickel. Which whistles were made of which material changed over time, depending on which metal was more available.

During the First World War, for example, J. Hudson & Co. actually had to make its whistles out of steel (donated by the Cadbury Chocolate Co. workers over in Bournville!) because the British government decreed that brass (the usual whistle-material) was required for the war-effort! But nobody needed the steel used to make chocolate-boxes and biscuit-tins, so it was used to make whistles, instead!

Dating Antique Police Whistles

As police whistles started becoming more and more popular, both in London and then further afield in the UK, and then around the world, mostly following the British model, manufacturers rushed to meet the demand. Other industries such as railroads, insane asylums, prisons, and countless other institutions and organisations suddenly realised how useful whistles could be, and they too, started putting in orders.

The earliest Metropolitan police whistles, as made by J. Hudson & Co., were produced in the company’s factory on 84 Buckingham Street, in Birmingham, starting in 1883. Within two years, demand was vastly outstripping supply, and Joseph Hudson was forced to close his original factory, and move to larger premises at 131 Barr Street, in 1884-85.

Even as the company moved manufacturing facilities, it also changed manufacturing processes, styling, stamps, and marks. This is what makes antique whistles so easy to date. Knowing how long and between what dates a company remained at a particular address helps you to date when a whistle was made.

The address of 131 Barr Street, on the whistle barrel

While changes in barrel markings and addresses can give you a date-range for when the whistle was made, more subtle changes in the whistle’s manufacturing can help to narrow down the date to an actual year. Variables such as the shape of the loop on the top of the whistle, the shape of the mouthpiece, and even the style and spacing of the branding-stamps on the barrels all changed over time as manufacturing techniques changed or improved. This is how it was possible to date this particular whistle to 1887!

How were the Whistles Used?

So far, I’ve covered why the whistles were created, what they were made of, and how they were dated, but how were they used?

The whole purpose of the whistles, like the rattles which they replaced, was to raise the alarm and call for assistance. In Victorian times, the only way for the police to respond to crime was to literally be there on the spot when it happened. There was no such thing as telephone or police radios in those days. Officers walked beats (timed patrol-routes) around their city, town or village, usually in shifts of one hour, after which they could return to the station-house for a break, a drink, a rest, and either go back out on patrol, or go home, if their shift had ended.

While out on the road, officers had no way of communicating with each other. If they spotted a crime in progress – a mugging, burglary, theft or even a murder – it was up to the officer on the scene to take charge of the situation. If the situation was more than he could handle, or if it suddenly went out of control – that’s what the whistle was for. Blowing the whistle as long and loud as you could would alert other officers on nearby beats that immediate assistance was required, and they would respond by rushing in the direction of the last whistle blast.

In this way, the whistle acted as both an instrument for calling backup, and as a siren, to alert people to what was going on. It also acted as a physical marker, so that people could hurry to the location where a policeman needed assistance, by following the sound of the whistle.

Police whistles remained in regular use from the 1880s up until the 1970s, when factors like improved portable communications devices, cars, and better electronics finally rendered them obsolete. They’re manufactured today largely for tourists, collectors, police dress-uniforms, and for historical reenactments or as movie- or television-props.

Collecting antique police whistles is a big hobby, and high prices can be paid for whistles which are particularly old, or which have rare stamps on the barrels, indicating that they were manufactured for, or issued to, different police forces or organisations.

Of the original J. Hudson whistles, probably the rarest or most collectible are the first-generation ones marked “84 Buckingham St.” on the barrels, because these were only made for two years. Even rarer than that are the handful of whistles from this time with even rarer markings on them. Rarer, because they were manufactured specifically for the various lunatic asylums around the UK at the time, and bear markings of the asylums to which they were issued. These whistles are among the most expensive, costing several hundred or even thousands of dollars each.

The second generation whistles, from the 1880s and 1890s, such as the one featured in this posting, are a little easier to find, although they are a bit more expensive than the average price for an antique whistle, due to their age.

I hope you found this glimpse into the history of whistles interesting. More postings along a similar theme are planned for the future, so keep an eye out for them!

 
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Now Selling on eBay!

I have been updating a few things on my blog over the past week or so, and one of those things was removing and updating the links and information in the “EXTERNAL LINKS” page on the side.

I have now added in a link for my eBay page! I’ve been selling antiques and collectibles online since 2015, and since the start of the pandemic this year, I’ve been slowly moving across to eBay.

As of the time of this posting, I’ve been selling on there for about six months. Feel free to shop and browse all the stuff on sale.

While I sell mostly to Australian customers, where possible, I’m also happy to sell to international customers, too. Just keep in mind that obviously, international sales will incur higher postage costs and longer delivery-times (especially with the coronavirus pandemic going around at the moment). If you decide to buy multiple lots, postage will be combined where possible, to save costs.

So, feel free to look around and bid! I’m also open to reasonable offers on most items. The link is the red button down below.

My eBay Page!

Thanks for looking, everybody!

 
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“My Card, sir!” – Vintage Calling-Card Cases

There was a time – now almost without living memory – when the first meeting between two hitherto unknown parties – started with the exchange of one’s cards, be they simple calling-cards, or more elaborate business-cards.

Calling cards and business-cards of all kinds, date back centuries, all the way to the Georgian era. In an age when refinement, politeness and decorum ruled supreme, there were prescribed ways of doing literally, absolutely everything, and guides and rulebooks to social, business, and visiting etiquette had a lot to say on the subject of cards.

In this posting, I’ll be going over card-cases – the little boxes, sleeves, or cases, in which these once virtually mandatory slips of paper were carried around in.

What is a Calling Card?

I have covered calling cards in an earlier posting, so I won’t go into too much depth here. If you want to find out more, check the previous posting here.

Essentially, calling cards were invented as a way to identify and introduce people if you were moving around in polite society. The idea that you just barged into someone’s house or office unannounced was considered the height of rudeness in the 1800s! You never just shoehorned your way into someone’s home or office without announcing yourself! How dare you!?

Presenting your card was a way for the occupant, owner or businessman, to know who was calling upon him, or her, and whether they wanted to accept the call, or not. You weren’t ‘visiting’ people, you were ‘calling’ on them. Hence ‘calling’ cards.

Almost everybody who could afford them, had calling cards. They could be small, large, medium-sized, plain, or incredibly elaborate. At the very least, cards contained the bearer’s name. As card-cutting and printing technology improved with the Industrial Revolution, cards became more and more elaborate and might include not only your name, but also your address, any professional, courtesy, military or aristocratic ranks or titles, your occupation…and by the early 1900s – things like your telephone number. It was around this time that the line that once separated ‘calling cards’ and ‘business cards’ started becoming more and more blurred, and nowadays, they’re usually one and the same.

In an age before voicemail, emails and paging, calling cards were a way to leave a discrete, neat, polite message, if you called on someone, and they weren’t available. You left your card, to show that you had been there. You might even write a message on the back, to indicate when you might return, how the recipient might contact you, or the reason for your call.

Calling cards became such a fixture of polite society and proper business relations that almost as soon as cards could be manufactured in abundance, card-carriers started needing to find ways to store their cards. It wouldn’t do to keep them stuffed into your pockets or crammed into your wallet along with the shilling coins, half-crowns, silver dollars and dimes – oh no! To hand over a wrinkled, marked, torn or otherwise imperfect card was a huge faux-pas!

It was for this reason that card-cases were invented.

The Victorian Card Case

Card-cases only started being manufactured from the mid-1800s onwards. Literacy, and more importantly – manufacturing processes – were increasing in efficiency and quality, which allowed for the creation of cheap calling cards, and this was what caused the creation of card-cases. Such cases were made of all kinds of materials, but their general manufacture doesn’t predate the Victorian era – cards simply just weren’t enough of a thing before the 1840s, to justify manufacturing cases specifically to hold them.

Card-cases were often made of mother-of-pearl or abalone, tortoise-shell, silver, or if you could afford it – even ivory! Cases varied in size from tiny, to enormous! Unlike today, there was no standard size in Victorian times, for how large a card had, or should, be.

Today, to aid the manufacture of things like wallets, briefcases, and card-cases, all cards – business-cards, credit-cards, transport and ID cards, even drivers’ license cards – are all made to the same dimensions. This sort of standardization did not exist in Victorian times, which is why Victorian card cases could vary widely in size, from a width of barely over an inch, to wider than two inches, from a length of just over three inches, to up to nearly five!

The majority of card cases were eventually standardised (more or less) at between three inches wide and four inches long, and maybe 2-3/8 of an inch thick – enough to hold a decent number of cards, while out and about on the town.

A sterling silver card case from my collection.

Since card-cases were often a reflection of the owner’s personal tastes, they came in a wide variety of styles, from plain to engraved, chased, repoussed…some cases were even sold with high-relief images of famous buildings on them, like cathedrals, the Crystal Palace, or notable country houses on the sides. Cases in silver, depicting particularly famous buildings, or which were made by particular silversmiths, are the ones which command the highest prices.

Buying an Antique Card Case

There’s lots of considerations to be made when buying an antique, or vintage card-case, and here, we’ll be going through them, bit by bit…

Size

When it comes to card-cases, size matters. And it matters more than you might think, because, like I said earlier – Victorian cards were not made to any standard size. Because of this, card cases also came in a wide variety of sizes. When purchasing a vintage one for your own cards, it’s important to know whether the case you like is even going to fit the cards you’ll put into it.

For this reason, when buying a card case, always carry a card (or even a slip of paper on you) which you intend to put into said case, to make sure that the cards fit in, and more importantly, that the lid closes!

Defects

For longevity, beauty and strength, most antique card-cases were made of silver, usually of a very thin gauge, or thickness. When buying an antique card-case, make sure that there aren’t any defects that will compromise the case’s usability.

For example: Keep an eye out for wonky or cracked hinges, splitting or separating seams, cracks from metal fatigue, or even wear-holes, from where the silver has been polished so extensively that it’s worn right through the metal! Also make sure that the case opens and closes smoothly and that the lid won’t accidentally drop open unexpectedly.

Materials

The vast majority of card cases were made of silver, but many other materials were also used. Popular ones included mother of pearl, abalone shell, and tortoise-shell. Since these materials were fragile, they were often just used for decoration. Usually, it was a veneer of shell, over a case made of wood, onto which the slices of shell were simply glued, sanded and polished.

The one exception to this was ivory: Often, card-cases made of ivory were made of sheets, strips and panels of ivory glued and riveted together. Ivory could be sliced thicker than tortoise-shell or abalone, which meant that the panels were stronger, allowing you to manufacture cases out of ivory using the ivory alone, without wood to reinforce it.

When purchasing a case made of natural materials, keep an eye on cracking, but also glue-failures. Over time, old glue dries out, gets brittle, and then the panels of nacre or shell, crack and drop off. Usually these flaws are repairable, but it’s important to check for these things in advance – once they fall off, these decorative pieces can be easily broken, and it’s better to know about this stuff before you buy it, rather than after, so that you can make allowances for it.

Another thing to be aware of is lifting and warping. Natural materials such as ivory, and tortoise-shell can dry out over the decades, and this drying can cause panels of ivory or sheets of shell, to crack, split, warp, and lift away from the wooden backing upon which they’ve been glued. Avoid any cases with defects like these, as they can be very fragile and difficult to repair. Trying to glue down a warped piece of ivory or shell will only cause undue stress on the panel of natural material, which could cause it to crack!

Any pieces which have simply dropped off due to age, however, can usually be sanded smooth to remove the old glue, and then simply carefully glued back into place, using modern adhesives, with no problem.

Clasps and Hinges

Apart from the materials that the case is made of, also check the workmanship of any moving parts. On card-cases, this usually means paying attention to the hinge that holds the lid together, and the clasp that keeps it shut!

Not all card cases have clasps or catches, but when they do, they’re usually spring-loaded, with little brass catches or hooks, and release-buttons built into the edge of the case. Make sure that the clasps hold the lid firmly shut and that the release-button can open it easily. The majority of silver card-cases were simply friction-closed, but cases made of wood and clad in natural materials had clasps, to ensure proper closure.

The two rivets holding in the hinge for the lid of the mother-of-pearl card-case

Pay particular attention to the main stress-point on all antique card cases: The hinge. These are often very small, and are only held in by a couple of rivets or a soldering-job, and a very small, possibly peened-over, hinge pin. This is where things like metal fatigue happens, and where pins, rivets and screws can work themselves loose or pop out.

Card-Cases Today

You can still buy calling-card or business-card cases today, and a number of companies still manufacture them, however, for anything flashier than punched steel, or brass, expect to pay a premium. In most cases, purchasing a card-case in sterling silver (the most common material in the old days), is best done secondhand – antique or otherwise vintage silver card-cases can usually be picked up in good condition, for anywhere between $200 – $500+, depending on condition. Cases made by famous manufacturers command a premium, and can have asking prices of well over $1,000. By comparison a brand-new silver card-case, from say, a company like Tiffany & Co., can cost upwards of nearly $700!

Sterling silver card-case from Tiffany & Co.

 
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Putting it down on Paper: Restoring a Vintage Desktop Blotter

It’s one of the most common tropes of the Golden Age of Detective Fiction, from the 1880s to the 1950s! It appears in everything from Sherlock Holmes to Peter Wimsey, Poirot to Miss Marple – the vital clue – the incriminating message – the saving grace – written on a sheet of paper, flipped over, and then blotted on a sheet of blotting paper, which the killer, extortionist, blackmailer or other careless desperado – then – conveniently – forgets to dispose of! As Holmes would say: “There’s nothing so important as the study of trifles!”

Since the second half of the 1800s, desk blotters or blotting pads, have been a staple on every well-appointed desktop. Designed to hold a sheet of blotting paper where it was convenient, and handy for keeping spills, stains and marks off of the surface of your – presumably – very beautiful, and expensive desk – desk-blotters served a multitude of purposes: Coaster, food-tray, jotting-pad, blotter, and even a launchpad for the greatest ideas in the world!…the sheet of blotting paper detailing the original design for the “Crystal Palace” is one of the most famous in the world!

I bought this blotter pad at a local antiques store about three years ago for just $10.00. It was in decent shape, but the more I looked at it, the more I realised just how tired, worn out and in need of attention, it really was. The surface of the pad was covered in ring-marks from old drinks and the triangular, leather corner tabs were peeling and lifting from old age and the glue used to adhere it, becoming unstuck.

Removing the tabs from the blotter, so that I could resurface it.

Fed up with constantly having to glue the damaged tabs back down, over, and over, and over again, I decided to just pull the whole thing apart, and do a proper restoration!

Restoring the Blotting Pad

The first step was to do something about all these ugly marks on the surface of the pad. The actual structure of the pad was in excellent condition, but it wasn’t the prettiest thing to look at. I found some scrap leather in a nice, dark blue colour, and started measuring and stretching and trimming it to the right size. I spread down glue and pressed the leather over the top of the old pad. The leather would make the pad look nicer, it would last longer, and the softness of the leather would provide cushioning for writing – so it didn’t feel like you were trying to carve your name into the desk while writing.

To hide the raw edges of the leather, the next step was to fit in a ribboned border, with some matching blue ribbon. This was easy enough, although it took rather more glue than I had anticipated!

The final step was the hardest: Attaching the blotting paper tabs.

The original tabs were very flimsy – they were literally paper-thin sheets of leather glued and folded around pieces of paper! Something this delicate would be impossible for me to repair, so I decided to cut away all the excess underside paper, leaving me with just the upper leather tabs – the only part which would show.

I found some scrap leather, and using the tabs as stencils, I traced and cut out four identical triangles of leather. I glued the original leather tabs onto their new, leather backing pieces, and then I glued, and nailed, the tabs into the corners of the blotter pad. The pad was more than thick enough to fit the nails, and the corner-tabs would hide the unfinished edges of the ribbon border around the edge of the pad.

I had planned to just glue the tabs down, like they had been originally, but it was soon obvious that the thickness of the blotting paper would simply pull the tabs right up off of the surface of the blotter, and no amount of glue would be strong enough to hold the tabs down. So in the end, I decided that a few, tiny, discrete nails, carefully hammered into the right places, would be ideal. They would be barely noticeable, they’d fit in well, and be so small as to be virtually invisible.

The whole process took less than a day, and the end result was simple, elegant, and robust.

Concluding Remarks

Breathing new life into this battered and obviously well-used blotting pad was much easier than I originally thought it might be. My greatest fear was tearing the original tabs, because of how thin they were, but the whole restoration process was surprisingly easy. I had a choice, when resurfacing the pad, of using brown or blue leather, but since most of the pads I’ve seen were almost always some shade of brown, or other heavy, dark colour, I chose blue so that it would stand out more, and I think the results speak for themselves!

Once I’ve fitted out the blotter with fresh blotting paper, it’ll be ready to grace another desktop for another 100 years!

 
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A Place to Call Home: Restoring an Antique Pocketwatch Stand

If you visit any decent department-store or online retailer, watch-shop or jewelry shop, there’s no end of variety when it comes to boxes, cabinets and cases in which to store your jewels, cufflinks, earrings, necklaces…and watches!

For the avid watch-collector, a watch-winder or watch cabinet to store your wristwatches in, becomes an absolute necessity when your collection grows to beyond three pieces. If nothing else, the empty spaces in the cabinet serve as incentives to buy more watches!!

Back when it was common for men to carry pocketwatches, jewelers and retailers, watchmakers and tobacconists used to sell all kinds of pocketwatch accessories. Fobs, chains, cabinets, and cases. They also used to sell individual pocketwatch stands where you could put your watch when you weren’t wearing it. These might sit on your desk, so that your watch could double as a desk-clock, or else, on your bedside table, where you would place your watch before going to sleep each night.

Pocketwatch stands are still manufactured today, and you can buy them easily online, but for an antique pocketwatch, the best thing to store it in when you’re not wearing it is an antique pocketwatch stand!…and that’s precisely what this posting will be about.

The Watch-Stand: A Closer Look

The stand was made by the Birmingham firm of Syner & Beddowes in the early 1900s, making it well over 110 years old. It’s made of wood, clad in a paper-thin leather veneer. The interior was originally bright green silk and felt, padded out with panels of wood and cardboard. The front of the stand is faced with a panel of sterling silver.

Stands such as this were common in the late 1800s and early 1900s. They came from huge ones for massive, eight-day “goliath” pocketwatches, all the way down to tiny dinky little ones, for ladies’ pocketwatches. They would’ve been purchased from any watch-shop or jeweler’s shop which catered to a discerning clientele.

Why Restore the Case?

I wanted to try and restore the stand for a number of reasons. First, they’re getting pretty rare these days, so throwing it out wasn’t an option. Two, it wasn’t too badly damaged, and it looked repairable. Three, I wanted somewhere to put my watch when I wasn’t wearing it!

Nobody makes watch stands like this anymore, and sure as hell, nobody is making a living out of restoring them, so the only option if I wanted to use the stand, was to fix it myself.

Restoring the Watch Stand…

After deciding to take the plunge, I went to get all the tools I needed: Files, sandpaper, a chisel, pocketknife, glue, etc, etc. And then, the first stage began.

Step ONE: The Teardown

A ‘teardown’ is restorers’ jargon for the disassembly process. It’s usually called a ‘teardown’ because that’s literally what you’re doing – ripping the item apart, and getting rid of any old pieces that can’t be used anymore. While it is fun to rip things apart, you do have to exercise caution. On an object this small and this old and fragile, any overexertion or undue eagerness could destroy the stand forever, and render it irretrievably damaged.

The first step was to remove the ring inside the base of the stand, which holds the pocketwatch in place. This had at least two big rips in it, which meant that it no longer held its shape (and therefore, was unable to hold a watch). The ring was simply glued in place, so it was pretty easy to just grab it and carefully peel it out. When I removed it, I was surprised to find that it was comprised of exactly one piece of green felt which had simply been folded over a stiff, cardboard ring…and simply glued in place! No wonder it didn’t last!

The next step was to remove the circular pad of green felt underneath the ring. This also, was pretty easy. Underneath this, I found several cardboard discs, which had been used to pad out the watch-stand, and to stop any watch housed inside, from rattling around. for something so small and narrow, there were a surprisingly large number of these cardboard discs inside! Up to half a dozen or more!

The next thing to remove was the felt-covered wooden base which the ring, the cardboard discs and the felt liner, all rested on, or in. This was somewhat more difficult, as it was glued very firmly into the back of the watch stand! If I exerted too much force, then the whole thing would break apart. Using my pocketknife, I slowly jemmied away the base from the back of the stand, cutting and levering up, slicing away the glued-down cardboard and crusted glue and wood, until the whole piece finally popped out as one.

Step TWO: Building a New Base.

Using the old base as a guide, I cut out a panel of plywood, chiseled and sanded it to the right size, and then covered it in blue cotton fabric which I glued down over the wood. I folded everything over, trimmed off the excess, covered the raw edges with another piece of the same fabric, and then glued it on.

Putting the new base into the stand was surprisingly easy – just shove it in. The friction alone will hold everything in place! Before doing this, however, I took advantage of the stand’s now relative lack of structural integrity to replace the ribbon strap that originally ran from the inside of the back of the stand, out the back of the case, and which attached to the backside of the prop-stand that juts out from behind the stand. This strap allows the watch stand to…stand up…and lean back at a slight angle. Without it, the prop just slides open and the whole thing topples over. This was a very easy fix, using some ribbon and glue.

Once that was done, I started rebuilding the ring that fits on top of the new, blue base!

Step THREE: Replacing the Ring.

Replacing the ring was of paramount importance. It had to hold the watch in place, and it had to stop it rattling around (something that the old ring couldn’t do because of its poor condition and flimsy construction). So for this ring to last, it had to be made of the most solid materials possible.

I used a piece of PVC drainpipe.

Our house had been renovated fairly recently, and the builders had left behind several sections of unused drainpipe. One of these was precisely the diameter that I needed for the watch-stand. Now, it was simply a matter of measuring the right dimensions, cutting off a section, sanding it to the right size, and fitting it in.

To hide the fact that I used a plumbing fixture to fix a 115-year-old antique, (“We found a witch! May we burn him!?“) I wrapped it in the same blue fabric I’d used for the base. I glued it all in place, trimmed off the excess, and then simply folded in the raw edges. To secure all this to the base, I dropped in one of the cardboard liner-discs from earlier (see step one, above), which I had also covered with the blue fabric.

Because the pipe was precisely the right diameter, the cardboard disc dropped in exactly as I wanted it to. I deliberately used the thickest, most structurally intact disc I could find. Then it was simply a matter of covering it all in glue, putting it together, positioning it very carefully over the center of the base, and sticking it all down!

Step FOUR: Replacing the Strap

The stand originally had a silk ribbon strap that ran from inside the back of the stand, and which attached to the back of the prop that holds the stand upright when it’s in use. You could still see the little slots and grooves where the ribbon used to fit in. Finding some thin, black ribbon to replace this was pretty easy. It was just a matter of measuring out the right length, and sticking it down.

Step FIVE: Tidying Up

The final step was gluing down all the loose bits and pieces, polishing the silver and the leather exterior, and then putting in the watch! The results speak for themselves:

Not a bad result for trying to fix something that’s over a hundred years old, and especially for being as fragile as it is!

 
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“ARMY STORES” solid brass Antique Service Whistle

I love antique whistles. They’re such fascinating little devices, and they’re proof that just because something is an antique, doesn’t mean that it has to cost a fortune.

I’ve been collecting antique whistles for years, and have a small collection of whistles at home, which range in age from anywhere from 70 or 80 years old, up to over 100 years old. I’ve never been an active collector, but if I see one lying around that I don’t have, and which is in good condition for a good price, I tend to add it to my collection if the opportunity presents itself.

The latest addition to this small area of my much larger, overall collection, is the subject of today’s posting.

Why Collect Whistles?

Antique whistles are infinitely fascinating. They’re symbols of how times have changed, how work has changed, how technology has changed and how manufacturing has changed, over the last few hundred years. They come in an almost endless variety of styles and finishes, and all these variations tell their own little stories – they are pocket-sized pieces of social history…that you can play around with…and unlike most antiques…are so robust that you almost never have to worry about breaking them!

Before the days of mobile phones, portable radios, walkie-talkies, megaphones and all the other handy dandy electronic communications devices that we take for granted nowadays – whistles were the only way that people had to communicate over long distances, or under adverse or busy conditions. This is why they were so incredibly common, and popular.

Whistles were common in a wide range of occupations and professions. Ship’s officers carried whistles to pass orders. Railroad workers carried whistles to signal to other staff and locomotives. Cyclists used to carry whistles on them to warn pedestrians when they were coming through. Policemen carried whistles to call for backup, postmen carried whistles to alert people when they had mail to collect, prison guards carried whistles to maintain order inside prisons, and orderlies in mental hospitals carried whistles to warn of patient riots. During World War Two, ARP wardens carried whistles during air-raids, and during both world wars, army officers carried whistles for issuing commands on the open fields of battle.

In many occupations, there were strict regulations regarding the use and care of whistles. For example in many police forces, whistles had to be clipped to the uniform by a chain so that it could be easily retrieved. In the postal services, whistles that were handed in when a postal-worker retired, had to be sterilised in boiling water before they could be re-issued to new staff. How whistles were used in these various professions were also regulated – how many whistle-blasts were used, what they signified, and under what circumstances they had to be used.

It’s all these varied uses that make whistles so collectible, and manufacturers produced whistles with all kinds of markings, stamps and labels on them as a result. That means that just one standard type of whistle might have dozens, or even hundreds of different markings, depending on which company or entity had ordered the whistle. It might be marked for police use. Or army use. Or postal use. Or use in a hospital, or prison. Or for any other myriad of purposes. Whistles with rare or unique stamps or marks on their barrels are more valuable, and they’re a useful way of trying to determine a whistle’s age.

How old is This Whistle?

This whistle dates to the turn of the last century, which makes it roughly 120 years old. It’s solid brass, and was once plated in nickel. It’s marked:

“THE CITY WHISTLE – PATENT”.

Underneath, is the additional marking:

“ARMY STORES – MELBOURNE”

And finally, it has the country-of-origin markings:

“MADE IN ENGLAND”

Antique whistles are usually extensively marked, and this is good, because it means that they’re very easy to research. Every major manufacturer had their own marks, stamps and trademarks, which were all used at various times throughout history. These variations – which can be something as simple as the formatting, the style of lettering, the size of lettering, or even the orientation of the lettering – can all be used to identify the whistle’s age and manufacturer.

In this case, “THE CITY WHISTLE” with the first two words curved, and ‘WHISTLE’ straight, with “PATENT” underneath – indicates that the whistle was made by the Birmingham firm of Alfred DeCourcy & Company, which was the main competitor for much of the 1800s and early 1900s, to the more famous Joseph Hudson & Co whistle manufactury…or it was, until Hudson & Co bought them out in the 1930s.

Changes in manufacturing processes and little style details also indicate the whistle’s age. Concave cap-loops, and variations in how the mouthpieces were formed, are further indications of the whistle’s age. This whistle was made between 1900 – 1910.

Is it a Rare Whistle?

Probably, yes! It was made by a lesser-known manufacturer, and for a small client, in a far-off country. On top of that, it’s over a hundred years old. All these factors would increase the whistle’s rarity, and presumably, it’s collectible desirability – it’s the rare whistles with uncommon markings that ardent whistle-collectors really want, due to the sheer uniqueness of them.

So…does it work?

Yes! Yes it does. Or it did, once I tweaked it a bit and got it working again.

Despite their apparently simple, tubular construction, these old whistles were very carefully manufactured. Inside the barrel is a flat diaphragm which splits the barrel lengthwise into two chambers. At the mouthpiece-end of the diaphragm is a circular endpiece that stops just below the bottom of the two sound-slots at the bottom of the barrel. There are two tiny semicircular gaps between the edges of the round endpiece inside the barrel, and the interior of the barrel and sound-slots.

It’s through these two gaps that the air passes when you blow on the whistle. Air passes through the mouthpiece and through these two gaps. It’s the passage of air which creates the trill, rippling, warbling, two-toned sound of the whistle.

…which won’t be produced if these two gaps are clogged or sealed up in some way! To fix it was a simple case of clearing out the gunk inside the mouthpiece and around the vent-holes using a pin, and levering out any dents around the slots using a flathead screwdriver and gentle pressure. Once the sound-slots near the holes had been opened and cleared sufficiently, the air could flow smoothly through the whistle, which meant that it could sound exactly like how it should!

 
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Antique Sterling Silver School Cufflinks

You find the strangest things on the internet.

I stumbled across these on an online auction site while bidding on some antique silverware. I’d never seen anything like them before, they were in very good condition for their age, and the price seemed reasonable, so I bid on them. I was very excited to win them and add them to my trove of treasures, and they now form part of my collection of antique cufflinks!

The silver cufflinks with the Scotch coat of arms on the front.

These antique ‘torpedo-style’ chained cufflinks, typical of the 1920s and 30s, are sterling silver with blue enamel on the front.

Normally, I don’t collect silver cufflinks, but I made an exception for these, because the face of the cufflinks depicts the crest of Scotch College, in Melbourne – my old highschool. Since I went there for so long, I decided that it’d be a nice little touch to buy them as a memento of my school-days.

The Coat of Arms on the Cufflinks

The coat of arms on the cufflinks is for Scotch College, a private boys’ school in Melbourne. Established in 1851, it’s the oldest school in the state, and, I think something like the…third oldest…school in the entire country.

The coat of arms is quartered by the Scottish Cross of St. Andrew on a background of blue. The quarters depict the Royal Crown representing Australia’s links to the British Empire, the Torch of Enlightenment and Education, the Southern Cross constellation, the Olympiad rowboat with its sails furled to indicate determination, and the Burning Bush (above the crown) to symbolise the school’s religious background.

The blue banner at the top has the Latin motto “DEO – PATRIAE – LITTERIS” (For God, for Country, for Letters). When the school was founded in 1851, the original motto was “DEO et LITTERIS” (“God and Learning”). This was ‘updated’ in 1914 with the start of the First World War, when the motto was changed to the current version, with the addition of “PATRIAE” during such a momentous time in international history.

The complete coat of arms, with the three-word motto and the quartered shield and bush were finally joined together and became the new school coat of arms in 1924.

What is ‘DAMMAN’S’?

Damman’s Tobacconists and Jewelers. Cnr Swanston & Collins Streets, Melbourne. 1954. (Image from SLV)

“Damman’s” was the name of a tobacconist’s shop and jeweler’s on the corner of Collins Street and Swanston street in Melbourne. Established in 1854, at the height of the Melbourne gold-mining boom, the shop lasted for at least 100 years, and was operated by at least two generations of the Damman family. Doing bulk custom-orders for specialised clients (such as these cufflinks for the school) must’ve been a big part of their business, because these aren’t the only Damman’s branded Scotch-related memorabilia which I have in my collection.

How old are these Cufflinks?

My guess is that they were made between the mid-1920s to the late 1930s. There’s a number of clues and indicators that point towards this.

The back of the cufflinks, showing the ‘torpedo’ toggles and the chain links.

First, the school coat of arms was adopted in 1924. So they can’t be any older than that. Second, I know that Damman’s was still producing Scotch-badged memorabilia in the mid-1930s (the cigarette lighter in my collection is from 1932). Thirdly, the cufflinks are chained cufflinks – very common in the Victorian era and the early 20th century…but which started to decline heavily in popularity in the decades after the Second World War.

Such cufflinks would have been unlikely to have been made during the war, and look too old-fashioned for postwar, 1950s construction, leaving a small window of about 15 years in which they could’ve been manufactured.

Does the School Still Sell Stuff like This?

Most definitely! Mugs, shot-glasses, tea-towels, books, clothing, and – yes, even cufflinks – are still sold by the school. They’re purchased from the school’s campus shop, or are offered to students for purchase as part of their graduation-memorabilia package, when they leave school at the age of eighteen.

 
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Antique Sealing-Wax Stove

Sometimes, you really do find the weirdest things, when you’re out antiquing. Over the years, I’ve stumbled across everything from Pieces of Eight to razor-blade sharpeners, pill-rollers and writing slopes. But sometimes…just sometimes…you find something so obscure and unheard of that not only have you never seen it before, you’ve never heard of it before, and you’ve never even come across one on the internet! Likely, you’ve never even considered that such a thing might even exist!

Such was the case last week!

It was on a very windy Sunday morning in July when I picked up this curious rectangular, metal object. It was pointed out to me by the stallholder as something in which I might show a particular interest! And boy, was he right!

I remember staring at this object, a mounting sense of curiosity building up inside me as I laughed at it and picked it up.

“What is it!?”
“Ever seen something like this before?”
“Hell no! What’s it do?”
“It’s pretty fantastic, huh? It’s for heating sealing-wax! You like that kind of old-world writing stuff, don’t you?”
“Well…yeah!”
“Buy it! You’ll never see another one of these, mate!”

Deciding that he was probably right, I haggled the price down and handed him the money. Apart from a bit of rubbing and wear, the piece was in absolutely wonderful condition – no cracks, no scratching, no dents, no missing or broken parts – everything was in perfect working order! A bit stiff in its operation, perhaps, but nothing that a good cleaning couldn’t fix!

All closed up

The furnace, or stove, is comprised of four main parts.

First is the body or shell. This is divided into two sections – the upper section, accessed by a flat, hinged lid, and the lower section, accessed by another hinged lid, with a circular handle screwed into the front.

The second part is the two-piece burner or spirit-lamp. This is the little rectangular unit that slides out of the bottom compartment. The top half of the burner comprises of the wick, and the adjustment-knob on the side, with the reservoir underneath.

The spirit-burner

It’s basically a small oil-lamp which burns kerosene or lamp-oil. The burner-unit is unscrewed, the reservoir is filled with oil, the wick and burner-unit are screwed back on, and once the oil has wicked its way up the wick, it can be lit with a match. Turning the wick up creates a strong, bright flame that is used as a heat-source for melting the wax.

The bottom door opened, showing the spirit lamp underneath

The sealing wax itself is stored in the third component – the wax pan. The pan is basically a metal dish or trough into which chunks or sticks of sealing wax are placed to be melted. The trough is heated from below by the flame of the spirit lamp, and once the metal is hot enough, the wax inside the trough melts into a liquid state.

Opening the top door reveals the removable wax pan above the burner-unit

Riveted to the sides of the body of the stove is the fourth component of the stove – an insulated carrying handle – suggesting that the stove is meant to be portable – this is borne out by the fact that the burner-unit fits into flanges or grooves inside the lower compartment of the stove-body, presumably to hold it in position under the middle of the wax-pan, and to stop it from sliding around when it’s being carried – important when you’ve got boiling hot wax and open flames around!

Is It A Rare Item?

I suspect that it is. I mean how many antique, working sealing-wax stoves have there got to be in the world? A look online revealed a surprisingly large number of sealing-wax melting devices, variously labeled as ‘stoves’, ‘kilns’ or even ‘furnaces’, but these were all modern ones. They’re low capacity, low-heat devices, usually incorporating a tealight candle.

They’re cheaply made with wooden and metal frames and bases, and are used only for melting small quantities of wax – enough for maybe one or two seals at a time. None of them have any age to them, and none of them are designed for large-scale, long-term use. They’re sold more as a cutesy gimmick, not as an actual piece of office or desktop equipment.

During all my searching, I found only two other antique sealing-wax stoves online, and only one of them was similar in design to mine. This would lead me to believe that they aren’t that common, and that if others do exist out there, then they’ve probably been mis-identified…which wouldn’t surprise me – after all, how many offices would’ve had a device like this sitting around?

What Is The Purpose of the Stove?

The stove is designed to melt and liquefy sealing wax, used for sealing documents and parcels, and provide a device for evidence of tampering. Traditional sealing-wax is very hard and brittle – it’s designed to shatter and crack if any stress is applied to it. Unfortunately, this quality means that it’s also much harder to melt than conventional candle-wax, or even modern, soft-textured sealing-wax.

Given that it would take higher heat and a longer time to melt traditional sealing-wax, it would make sense that any office where documents had to be sealed regularly, such as a post-office, bank, or lawyer’s office, would have a stove like this constantly lit, so that a supply of hot, liquid sealing-wax was on standby at the moment’s notice. To seal a document, one simply had to open the lid, scoop out the required amount with a ladle, and pour it over the document or parcel which required sealing.

How Does It Work?

Very simply! You place sticks or pellets of sealing-wax in the pan at the top of the stove. Drop the pan in, and close the lid. Then you fill the spirit lamp or burner with lamp-oil, or kerosene. You let the fuel rise up the wick, then light it with a match, like any other oil lamp. Turn the wick up to the highest level it can go without smoking, and then slide it into the bottom compartment between the two guide-rails. Then close the lower door (or leave it open, up to you).

Lighting the wick and testing out the spirit lamp

Once the lamp is lit, it’s just a matter of waiting for the flame to heat the pan, to melt the wax down to a liquid state. Obviously, the more wax there is in the pan, the longer it takes to melt. I imagine they did this on a case-by-case basis – they’d melt just enough wax to make a few seals, and after every 2-3 uses, they’d toss in another stick of wax to melt, so that it’d be liquid by the time they needed to use it again, while keeping the stove burning all day long throughout office hours.

The insulated carry-handle at the back

The carrying-handle on the stove suggests that it was meant to be portable – and that it was intended that the stove could be moved from desk to desk around a large office so that different people could use it, rather than taking their documents to a central table to seal them when needed.

How Old Is the Stove and Who Made It?

I honestly don’t know. I’d estimate early 1900s, probably not later than after the First World War, and as far back as the 1880s or thereabouts. There’s no real information on the device itself that gives us any information as to its history.

The only information provided is “SUTHERLAND, THOMSON & Co., 31 Tooley Street, London“. They’re identified as late as the 1930s, as being a supplier of “Dairy equipment and Scientific Glassware” – but that doesn’t mean that they made the stove. They might’ve sold it as the retailer, or simply have bought it for their own use in sealing documents and parcels. I saw one other one online supposedly sold by the same company, so they may have been an established retailer, although I have no real proof one way or the other. There are no patent-numbers, model-numbers, serial-numbers or any other marks on the device at all that tell us anything about it.

 
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Among My Souvenirs – Display Cabinets and Cases

As a serious antiques collector since my school days, taking care of one’s collection, keeping tabs on it, remembering what’s in your collection, what you’ve bought, sold, traded or given away, and how to protect, store and display one’s collection is something that is always on your mind.

In this posting, I’m going to be talking about display-cabinets and cases, and what sorts of choices and options there are out there for you to consider, and what issues you yourself need to consider when you select a case or cabinet, dependent on the types of antiques you collect.

Cabinets and Cases – What Are They?

Before we get swept away with the fascination about our intriguing subject-matter, let’s first understand one thing:

Cabinets are not cases, and cases are not cabinets. They are two different things, and each is used for different items. Alright?

Alright.

Display Cabinets

A display CABINET is a freestanding unit or piece of furniture, designed to exhibit the items stored within it. They can be tall and thin, low and rectangular, square, modular and angular. They usually have glass sides and doors and multiple shelves. They may or may not be lockable.

Overview of my display cabinets, with some of the lights turned on

Benefits of display-cabinets is that they’re larger and can keep a larger amount of (or larger-sized) items safe and clean. For a relatively small footprint, they can store and display multiple shelves or layers of collectives and therefore take up a small amount of floor-space for the amount of items that they can store. The disadvantages are their weight and lack of portability.

Display Cases

By comparison, a display CASE is a shallow, flat, box-like container, usually with a glass-topped lid. They’re usually small enough to be somewhat portable and are typically used for displaying small items such as pens, coins, stamps, etc. Basically, anything small that wouldn’t really suit a larger display cabinet, because they would get lost among all the bigger items. They may or may not be lockable, just like their larger counterparts, and may or may not include lighting features.

The benefits of display cases is that they’re smaller and more portable. This makes them great for things like displaying your collections or items for sale, at antiques fairs, collectors’ fairs and conventions, or for displaying your collections in a wider selection of areas (in your study, on the coffee table in your living room, etc).

The disadvantages of display cases is that they take up a LOT of space. Since you can’t stack them when they’re in use, they can take up a lot of space, compared with the relatively small footprint vs. large storage space, of a display cabinet.

Cabinets or Cases? What’s Best for You?

Cabinets are better if what you’re displaying is large, bulky or heavy. Silverware, brassware, antique optical equipment, books, porcelain, etc. Things that you don’t have to strain your eyes to notice through the glass.

Cases are better for displaying smaller things with low profiles, such as coins, stamps, pens, collections of snuffboxes, pocketknives, lighters, and so on.

Having lights makes things easier to see…

When deciding to buy a display-unit for your collections, you need to figure out what’s going to go into it, how heavy your collection is, and where the case or cabinet is going to go. Will the shelves support the weight of that beautiful French porcelain censer? Will the lid close on top of your favourite guilloche enamel table-lighter? Will you be able to arrange things the way you want them to look?

These are all things that you need to consider. If you buy a set of display cabinets – do you have the wall-space for them? Where will you hang your pictures, photographs and clocks? Will it take up space that you need for other things? So much to think about.

Display & Lighting

Once you’ve decided on which option works best for you – cabinets or cases, then the next thing to consider is how to display your collection and whether or not you wish to include any form of illumination.

With a flat case, how you arrange your collection is up to you, but with display cabinets, there are certain limitations that you need to consider.

First – how stable are your cabinets? To provide ballast, heavier, bulkier items should go at the bottom and lighter and smaller things further up. Larger items should be placed at the back of shelves, and smaller items closer to the front, so that all pieces may be seen, with minimal obstruction between one piece and another.

Of course, you don’t have to have lights, but not having them can create shadows which make it harder to see the details of your collection

As much as possible, take full advantage of all the space available to you. Small pieces may be displayed by hanging them from hooks, which you can stick to the sides or backs of your shelves. Narrow-depth, smaller-sized display-boxes with transparent windows, may be used to display smaller items, within the main cabinets, in order to maximise the vertical space between your shelves. This can make it easier to see particularly small items and if these display-boxes can be stacked or otherwise arranged, then it frees up even more space for larger items.

Along with how to display your items comes the issue (or non-issue, as the case may be) of illuminating your display.

Naturally, display cases are generally easier to illuminate. A lamp or two, strategically placed, is usually sufficient to light up your prized collection, but when it comes to larger receptacles, such as cabinets, some form of integrated lighting is either included, or at least, recommended.

Whether it’s battery-powered or comes with a plug and lead, lights should be unobtrusive and shouldn’t get in the way of whatever it is that you’re trying to illuminate. It’s best to stick them in corners or edges, or on the undersides of your shelves, so that they’re out of the way, but still give plenty of illumination.

What Lights Are Best?

It really depends on what your budget and personal situation is. These days, there are a wide range of options. Ideally, you want lights that are small, unobtrusive, and bright. In this arena, we have bar lights, strip lights, and puck lights, all utilising extremely powerful LEDs to produce the necessary illumination. Each of them has their benefits and drawbacks.

Bar lights are comparatively bulky and take up the most space overall. They work off of batteries and/or cables, and this can mess up your delicately placed displays. If you have a particularly LARGE display cabinet, however, and can spare the space, and require the light, then bar lights might be the way to go!

LED strip lights are much smaller in profile, while still being extremely bright. These can vary from very, very, VERY long strips which are typically powered by plug-leads and switches, and comparatively small strips, which are battery-powered. These are often great for small or medium-sized cabinets or smaller display-cases since they don’t take up much room. You just need to think about where you’re going to hide the extra leads, plugs, switches, and battery-boxes.

The last option is using puck lights. Puck lights get their name because they’re flat, round and chunky – like hockey pucks. Puck lights are cheap – A pack of four or six cost comparatively little, they take ordinary AA-size batteries, and require no leads or switches. They can be mounted almost anywhere, and are very bright. Also, you can get them with remote controllers. That way, you can switch on loads of pucks at once, and then them off at once, requiring just a couple of clicks of a button. Useful, if you have twelve lights to turn on and off.

The only potential downside to puck-lights is that they are VERY expensive in BATTERIES. The average puck-light takes three batteries to operate. This may not sound like much (my flashlight only takes TWO batteries!), but when you’re trying to light up a LOT of pucks, the number of batteries required can easily run into the dozens! That said, they do last a long time.

Shelving Types

When it comes to shelves in your display cabinets, you generally have two options: Conventional wooden shelves, and glass shelves.

Wooden shelves are more sturdy and can take more weight. On the flipside, they’re bulky, weigh a lot, and impede the passage of light.

Putting smaller display boxes/cases inside larger display cabinets can make better use of the available vertical space, allowing you to show more things in a smaller amount of space

The alternative is having shelves made of glass. Glass has numerous advantages. It’s light, it means you need fewer lights to illuminate your cabinet, and they take up much less space. The only problems with glass are that glass shelves can be scratched, broken and cannot take excessively heavy loads – so like, I wouldn’t suggest putting your Victorian-era editions of the Encyclopedia Britannica on glass shelves, for example. Glass shelves also show off dust far more than wooden ones.

Doors and Windows

Whether or not your display cabinets or cases have doors or windows is up to you. But there are certain advantages and disadvantages.

The main disadvantage is weight. Such additions as doors, glass, and handles, hinges etc, do add considerably to the weight of your cabinet or case. It’s more things to break, more things to go wrong. If you do transport your cabinets or cases and they have glass doors and windows, make sure you pad and restrain them securely during transit, to prevent cracks and breakage.

One way to keep sub-collections of small items organised within larger collections is to use display-cases or boxes inside your larger cabinets. This is a simple Fererro Rocher chocolate box which I used to put my pocketknife and lighter collection into. It doesn’t take up much space, and it keeps the dust away.

However, glass doors and windows do have advantages. They let in more light, while at the same time, keeping out dust, prying fingers, and other grime. With the right accessories, doors can also be locked, for added security. An alternative for doors when it comes to display cases, is to have a lockable drawer setup, where the entire case can be slid out from under the glass for arranging and displaying items, before the entire thing is slid back in and locked for security.

Concluding Remarks

For the serious collector, having somewhere to store, and more importantly, display your collections is always important. It’s not something to be rushed into, however and as much time as necessary should be taken in deciding what you want and how you want it to look. Remember that your deciding factors should be things like: What are you displaying? What is your budget? How much space do you have, and how can you maximise it?

Do you need to worry about things like earthquakes? Storms? Do your cabinets or cases require anchoring to protect them from toppling or falling? What’s the largest or heaviest thing that you’ll be putting inside?

Think about all these factors and more, before making any serious moves.

 
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One Pair of Bone-Handled Boot-Pulls

One thing that I love about antiques is discovering, and learning about all the weird, whimsical little one-use gadgets that the Georgians and the Victorians invented to overcome fiddly little problems, or created, as elegant solutions to necessary evils.

I’ve seen everything from pocketknives with button-hooks, brass string-caddies that stop balls of twine from rolling away, oval-shaped silver pap-boats for feeding infants, brass pill-rollers, and countless other items too numerous to mention.

Well, last week, I ended up buying yet another historical curiosity – a pair of bone-handled boot-pullers! I don’t know how old these things are, but from the research I did, they used to be very common back around the Victorian era. Modern ones are still made today, but they’re manufactured with wooden handles and the steel rods used to make them tend to be much thinner. Some pullers are even made with plastic handles!

What are Boot-Pulls?

Boot-pulls have T-shaped handles at the top – usually in wood, or in antique ones – bone. Some slim, compact models have thin, folding metal handles. Modern models typically have plastic ones.

Beneath the handles (boot-pulls were always sold as pairs), there’s a long shaft, about six or eight inches. Beneath this is a flat, angular hook with a blunt tip.

They’re designed to help you put your boots on, back in the days when men wore calf-, or even knee-length riding boots. Due to the length of the boot-leg and the confined space inside, it wasn’t always easy to slide your foot all the way down and into the shoe at the bottom. Because the firmness of the leather, and the size of the boot, prevented (or at least made it very difficult) for the wearer to bend their knees or reach their boots to tug them on, boot-pulls were invented.

The whole idea is that the blunt, flat hook at the bottom of the pull hooks into the leather pull-loop or tab at the top of the boot-leg. The length of the metal shaft meant you didn’t have to bend down so far, and you were able to tug your boots on quickly and comfortably without having to fight with them.

Where Did Boot-Pulls Come From?

Back in the old days, boot-pulls were usually sold in pairs and were typically associated with the sports of hunting and horse-riding. It was common to buy a set of boot-pulls along with the rest of your traditional riding outfit such as boots, horse-whip, flasks, hat, breeches and so on. Companies like Swaine & Adeney, which for over 200 years, have specialised in high-end leathergoods such as riding boots and other footwear, would’ve sold sets along with their boots and shoes, or would’ve offered them as optional extras at the moment of purchase.

Boot-Pulls sound useful! I want some!

You can still buy boot-pulls today, although modern ones are typically made with handles constituted from wood, or plastic, rather than bone. Now, as then, some sets were collapsible, with folding handles for easy storage and packing.

If you want an antique set with bone handles, then the easiest place to find them is eBay. Being fairly common, they don’t tend to go for very much and a pair in good condition can easily be purchased for under $100. The set that I purchased cost me less than half of that, and they’ll last forever!