Behind The Scenes

A Look At Some Of Our Favorite Vintage Food Toys

Every kid remembers that magic moment of getting to the bottom of your cereal or Cracker Jack box and finding a prize. It could have been a plastic ring, or a puzzle, or a toy of a cartoon character. It was the best part of the morning. So here are a few of our favorite food-related toys from the Bella C. Landauer Collection of Business and Advertising Ephemera, a collection of which is on display in our Luce Center.

Toy/ Food, 1940-1970. Plastic. Gift of Bella C. Landauer, 2002.1.936

Henry J. Heinz began their pickle-and-ketchup empire in Pennsylvania in 1869, soon advertising “57 varieties” of foodstuffs. One of the original Heinz logos was a pickle emblazoned with the name, like the toy above,  but in 2009 retired it in favor of a “vine-ripened tomato.”

 

Toy/Food, 1940-1970. Plastic. Gift of Bella C. Landauer, 2002.1.935

Elsie the Cow has been Borden’s Milk Product’s mascot since 1936, who briefly had a home in the Bronx. From 1960-1964 Freedomland USA, a US-history themed amusement park, operated in Baychester, and featured Borden’s Barn Boudoir, a fully-furnished apartment for Elsie. And did you know Elsie is married to Elmer the Bull, mascot for Elmer’s Glue? Lucky gal!

Toy/Food, 1950-1990. Plastic. Gift of Bella C. Landauer, 2002.1.949

How much would you have loved to find this whistle in your pack of hot dogs? In 1936, Oscar Mayer’s nephew, Carl G. Mayer, created the first Weinermobile, where drivers (or “hotdoggers”) would ride around to promote and advertise their products. Drivers would also distribute these weiner whistles to kids in the ’50s, and by 1958 they came packaged with the hot dogs in the grocery store.

Did you have a favorite food toy when you were a kid? Is there one you wish you could get your hands on? Let us know in the comments!

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Jacob Lawrence And WWII Integration

Jacob Lawrence (1917–2000), No. 2, Main Control Panel, Nerve Center of Ship, 1944. United States Coast Guard Museum, New London, CT. Courtesy of the US Coast Guard Historian's Office.

In 1943 America was deep into WWII oversees, but was also fighting a battle of inequality. The “Double V” campaign waged by many African Americans insisted that if they were to be fighting for their country abroad, they deserved equal rights at home. The Red Cross was segregating blood, and troops were not allowed to serve together. However, in the middle of the war, the Navy experimented with integrating one of their ships, and artist Jacob Lawrence was there to capture it.

Jacob Lawrence was already a prominent artist with a strong social and black consciousness when the war began. His paintings dealt with the struggles of black people throughout history, such as Toussaint L’Ouverture, Harriet Tubman, John Brown, and Frederick Douglass. In 1943 he was drafted into the segregated Coast Guard as a seward’s mate, serving meals to white officers. But thanks to an experimental integration policy, Lawrence was assigned to the Navy’s first integrated ship and promoted in rank so he could serve as a combat artist.

The two paintings displayed in WWII & NYCDisembarkation and No. 2 Main Control Panel—are two of the fifty canvases that Lawrence created for the Coast Guard. Each speaks to the seemingly-everyday activities of the average Coast Guard member, which become heroic in the context of war.  No. 2 Main Control Panel aws also one of forty works included in Lawrence’s 1944 solo exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art—the museum’s first solo show by an African American artist

Others in his War Series depict servicemen in brutal combat, and he often showed black and white servicemen together. A few of these works are currently on view at the Whitney Museum of American Art. His career extended long after the war, and when he died in 2000, the New York Times called him ”one of America’s leading modern figurative painters.”

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Where Have All The Pigeons Gone?

John James Audubon (1785-1851), Passenger Pigeon (Ectopistes migratorius) Study for Havell Pl. 62, 1824. Watercolor, pastel, graphite, gouache, black chalk, and black ink on paper, laid on card. New-York Historical Society, Purchased for New-York Historical by public subscription from Mrs. John J. Audubon, 1863.17.62.

New York City would be an entirely different place without our pigeons (AKA Rock Doves, Carrier Pigeons). But for hundreds of years, a different pigeon dominated America’s landscape. The Passenger Pigeon was once the most abundant bird on the North American continent, with estimates putting their population at three to five billion at their height. But on September 1, 1914 the last passenger pigeon died. What happened?

In 1824 John James Audubon painted these Passenger Pigeons in Pittsburgh. This watercolor will be on display in the upcoming exhibition, Audubon’s Aviary: Part 1 of The Complete Flock.  He also wrote on the hunting of the Passenger Pigeon in the Ornithological Biography:

Every thing was ready, and all eyes were gazing on the clear sky, which appeared in glimpses amidst the tall trees. Suddenly there burst forth a general cry of “Here they come!” The noise which they made, though yet distant, reminded me of a hard gale at sea, passing through the rigging of a close-reefed vessel. As the birds arrived and passed over me, I felt a current of air that surprised me. Thousands were soon knocked down by the pole-men. The birds continued to pour in. The fires were lighted, and a magnificent, as well as wonderful and almost terrifying, sight presented itself. The Pigeons, arriving by thousands, alighted everywhere, one above another, until solid masses were formed on the branches all round. . . .Persons unacquainted with these birds might naturally conclude that such dreadful havoc would soon put an end to the species. But I have satisfied myself, by long observation, that nothing but the gradual diminution of our forests can accomplish their decrease, as they not infrequently quadruple their numbers yearly, and always at least double it.

Unfortunately, both this hunting and deforestation caused the extinction of the Passenger Pigeon just ninety years after Audubon painted them. According to Project Passenger Pigeon, an organization dedicated to educating people about human-caused extinction, their large flocks make them an easy target for hunting, and in the early nineteenth century many commercial hunters began selling them for meat in city markets for as little as a penny a bird. as little as a penny a bird. They were also eradicated as pests that endangered crops. Deforestation reduced their flock numbers, which had been key to protecting them from predators. By the late nineteenth century, their population was dwindling to the point where they could not continue their communal breeding habits. Despite preservation attempts, the last Passenger Pigeon, Martha, died in the Cincinnati Zoo in 1914.

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From WWII to Hurricane Sandy: New-York Historical’s Public Service

The New-York Historical Society Unit of the American Red Cross, 1942. New-York Historical Society.

In the wake of Pearl Harbor, New York mobilized for war, and the New-York Historical Society was no exception. As the city braced for possible enemy attack, the New-York Historical Society took precautions to protect the collection as its staff members departed for the Armed Forces and defense factories. Nine New-York Historical Society staff members saw active duty during WWII. William R. Baillie, Laidslaw Csierny, Joseph Gymory, George Henry Johnson, Vincent J. Marshall, Charles T. Miller, George Takacs, and Alexander J. Wall Jr. served in the Army. H. Maxson Holloway served in the Navy. Following the war, some of these men donated their uniforms and accouterments to the museum (now on display in WWII & NYC).

In 1942, the American Red Cross set up a surgical dressing workroom in two ground-floor galleries of the New-York Historical Society. The all-female volunteer unit rolled a staggering four million surgical sponges by December 1944. Once completed, the 4″ x 8″ dressings were boxed, shipped overseas, and sterilized for use in evacuation hospitals. The Army Medical Corps reported back that “the splendid surgical sponges prepared by you actually have gone to war. We are using [them] in treating Allied battle casualties, directly behind the lines.”

The spirit of service continues at the New-York Historical Society to this day, from the programs and exhibitions we present to increase public understanding of American history, to the auxiliary initiatives taken up by our staff and trustees to support our community. On the day after Hurricane Sandy in 2012, New-York Historical immediately reopened its doors so that thousands of children and families from across the city could learn and have some fun, while schools remained closed and widespread power outages. Admission proceeds were  redirected to help cover the cost of damages inflicted on some of our city’s important historic sites through the Historic House Trust of New York City’s Emergency Maintenance Fund.

Times may change, but here’s to hoping that New Yorkers’ commitment to their history and public service always remain strong.

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Wounded Scout: Rogers Takes On The Gravity Of The Civil War

1936.655 Wounded Scout Rogers

In honor of our upcoming exhibition, John Rogers: American Stories, curator Kim Orcutt will be writing a series of posts about his life, his work, and how he earned the nickname “The People’s Sculptor.” Watch Kim Orcutt and Harold Holzer tour the exhibition on YouTube

Over the night of February 9/10, 1864, more than one hundred Union soldiers escaped from their Confederate captors at the infamous Libby Prison, tunneling out of the former warehouse and boldly strolling out through the streets of Richmond, Virginia. More than half of them made it to Union lines.

Just a few weeks later, the sculptor John Rogers debuted what would become one of his most popular and acclaimed works, Wounded Scout: A Friend in the Swamp. It’s one of the stars of the exhibition John Rogers: American Stories. He depicted a Union scout who has been shot in the arm while on a mission in Southern territory and is weak from loss of blood. An escaped slave has come to the scout’s aid and is guiding him through the swamp. In just a few years, Rogers had developed a nationwide reputation for his small sculptures of War themes, but until now he had focused on amusing scenes of soldiers at leisure or comforting vignettes of civilian life. Wounded Scout shows a soldier in real peril, and it confronts sensitive questions of race. In this narrative, the black man is the hero. Though he is ragged and barefoot, he is also tall and muscular. He supports the soldier protectively and looks up with an alert, commanding gaze.

Rogers’ timing was fortuitous. Union General Ulysses S. Grant had suspended prisoner exchanges just a few months before, so captured soldiers would not be exchanged, but rather would be held prisoner in places like Libby Prison, sometimes under terrible conditions. Rogers’ soldier, injured, vulnerable, and, until his rescue, alone, would have struck an emotional chord for those at home who worried about their loved ones being captured. The artist sent a version of Wounded Scout to President Abraham Lincoln, who recognized both the insightful subject and its masterful execution when he replied: “I can not pretend to be a judge in such matters; but the Statuette group ‘Wounded Scout’-'Friend in the Swamp’ is . . . excellent as a piece of art.”

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Keith Haring Paper Lantern Installed In The Luce Center

Keith Haring artwork © Keith Haring Foundation

Keith Haring painted this Japanese paper lantern in 1988. Installed on Monday, it’s part of our latest rotation from the Keith Haring Foundation. This rotation, on view through June 2, focuses on Haring’s Pop Shop Tokyo project. On January 30, 1988, (25 years ago yesterday!) Keith Haring opened  the Pop Shop Tokyo, following the successful opening of the original Pop Shop in New York two years earlier. He collaborated with Japanese film producer Kaz Kuzui, and his American wife, film director Fran Rubel Kuzui on a Tokyo venue. As well as painting his Tokyo venue in the same manner as the New York shop, Haring created numerous products specifically for a Japanese audience, and decorated the store with objects like this paper lantern.

Unfortunately, widespread counterfeiting interfered with Pop Shop Tokyo’s success. Haring noted “there are just too many Haring fakes available all over Tokyo and, this time, they’re really well done.” Pop Shop Tokyo closed by the end of the year.

Keith Haring’s work will also be explored in a major Paris exhibition opening at two venues this spring. The Musée  d’Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris will open Keith Haring: The Political Line, a large-scale retrospective of the artist’s work, on April 19. This exhibition will also feature an installation at LE CENTQUATRE, a Parisian art space, that will display Haring’s monumental works including The Ten Commandments. But visit the New-York Historical Society first before buying your plane ticket!

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Tracking Time

Camilo José Vergara, Untitled, undated, Lupita Discount Store, Compton Avenue at East 55th Street, Los Angeles. Digital c-print. Collection of the artist.

In honor of Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and our new exhibition, The Dream Continues: Photographs of Martin Luther King Murals by Vergara, we present “Tracking Time,” written by photographer Camilo Vergara. Here, he speaks about his decades of documenting America’s poor urban communities, and how he became a “builder of virtual cities.” 


For more than four decades I have devoted myself to photographing and documenting the poorest and most segregated communities in urban America. I feel that a people’s past, including their accomplishments, aspirations and failures, are reflected less in the faces of those who live in these neighborhoods than in the material, built environment in which they move and modify over time. Photography for me is a tool for continuously asking questions, for understanding the spirit of a place, and, as I have discovered over time, for loving and appreciating cities.

My focus is on established East Coast cities such as New York, Newark and Camden; rust belt cities of the Midwest such as Detroit and Chicago; and Los Angeles and Richmond, California. I have photographed urban America systematically, frequently returning to re-photograph these cities over time. Along the way I became a historically conscious documentarian, an archivist of decline, a photographer of walls, buildings, and city blocks. Bricks, signs, trees, and sidewalks have spoken to me the most truthfully and eloquently about urban reality.

I did not want to limit the scope of my documentation to places and scenes that captured my interest merely because they immediately resonated with my personality. In my struggle to make as complete and objective a portrait of American inner cities as I could, I developed a method to document entire neighborhoods and then return year after year to re-photograph the same places over time and from different heights, blanketing entire communities with images. Studying my growing archive, I discover fragments of stories and urban themes in need of definition and further exploration. Wishing to keep the documentation open, I include places such as empty lots, which as segments of a sequence become revealing. I observe photographic sequences to discover how places evolve, and to formulate questions. I write down observations, interview residents and scholars, and make comparisons with similar photographs I had taken in other cities. Photographs taken from different levels and angles, with perspective-corrected lenses, form a dense web of images, a visual record of these neighborhoods over time.

My photographic archive of poor, minority communities across the country evolved over decades. The stages can be divided according to the film and type of camera used. In the early 1970s, as a street photographer who focused on people, I used High Speed Ektachrome. Then, as I concentrated on time-lapse photography of the urban fabric, I turned to Kodachrome 64, a stable color film that came out in the mid-1970s. In combination with a small 35 mm camera, it provided me with the medium speed and fine grain emulsion appropriate for creating a lasting archive of buildings and city blocks. After it was discontinued in 2010, Fujichrome Provia 100 became my film of choice. I have used it concurrently with digital photography since 2005. For quick access to my collection I have made a selection of 2,500 digital images and archived them using Adobe LightRoom, which provides a system for organizing my digital collection according to place, time and subjects. It is also invaluable for gathering images to update, as well as to prepare articles, books and exhibitions.

After 2000 my documentation entered a new phase. I began to do web searches of words, themes, and addresses. With a simple search on Google for a particular location, I was able to find newspaper and magazine articles, religious pamphlets, student papers, announcements for conferences, and political meetings that enriched the context of my research and prompted me to ask fresh questions and take new photographs. I discovered information about people who lived in the locations I photographed, read about events such as crimes, fires, and stores and institutions coming in or abandoning the area, and learned about historical events that had taken place nearby. After the appearance of Google Maps (2005) and Google Street View (2007), these became important research tools, allowing me to revisit the locations of my photographs and to go beyond the frames of the images to explore the streets around them. Whenever in doubt about the location of an image, I search for the correct address with Google Satellite or Street View. I am a builder of virtual cities. I think of my images as bricks that, when placed next to each other, reveal shapes and meanings of neglected urban communities.

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Rogers and Rockwell

April Fool’s image © SEPS. Used by courtesy of Curtis Licensing

In honor of our upcoming exhibition, John Rogers: American Stories, curator Kim Orcutt will be writing a series of posts about his life, his work, and how he earned the nickname “The People’s Sculptor.” Watch Kim Orcutt and Harold Holzer tour the exhibition on YouTube

The sculptor John Rogers is often compared to Norman Rockwell, and for good reason. Both were highly accomplished artists whose work was beloved by a very large audience. Both men worked in years of war and peace, and produced insightful and moving scenes of American life. Rockwell’s paintings graced the covers of the Saturday Evening Post from 1916 to 1963, and Rogers sold 80,000 of his small narrative sculptures from the 1860s to the 1890s. Priced around $15, they were a common sight in parlors across the country.

Even though Rogers isn’t the household name that Rockwell is, Rockwell paid tribute to the sculptor and testified to how firmly entrenched he was in American consciousness, even decades after his death. Rockwell’s “April Fool” cover for April 3, 1948 was titled Curiosity Shop and it showed an encounter between the elderly shop owner and a young patron. It is filled with quirks that are meant to test the viewer’s alertness, like the heron flying out of the left side of the picture and the old man’s head that appears on the dolls he and his customer are holding (give it a try, there are lots of other oddities to find). At lower right is a Rogers Group that combines a man from one of his famous Civil War sculptures, Wounded to the Rear: One More Shot and the woman from his best-selling Coming to the Parson, a scene of young love. What’s remarkable about the image is that Rockwell expected the readers of the Saturday Evening Post to get the joke, even fifty years after Rogers’ heyday.

The New-York Historical Society will host a conversation between Kimberly Orcutt, Henry Luce Curator of American Art and Laurie Norton Moffatt, Director of the Norman Rockwell Museum, moderated by Harold Holzer, Senior Vice President for External Affairs at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and renowned expert on Abraham Lincoln and the Civil War. “Rogers and Rockwell: the Original Pop Artists” will explore how each man captured his era while blurring the boundaries between high and low culture. Click here for tickets!

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New York’s Gilded Age, In The Spotlight Again

He'd make a handsome leading man! (Théobald Chartran (French, 1849 –1907), James Hazen Hyde (1876-1959), 1901. Oil on canvas. New-York Historical Society, Gift of James Hazen Hyde, 1949.1)

It recently came to our attention that Julian Fellowes, creator of the BBC hit show Downton Abbey (what did everyone think of the third season premiere?), is setting his sights on New York’s Gilded Age for his next show. The Gilded Age was a remarkable time of growth in America, taking place roughly from the 1870s through the 1890s. The railroad industry boomed, the fight for women’s rights grew stronger, and New York saw skyscrapers climb high. We’re excited about the show, not just as Downton Abbey fans, but because a number of our upcoming exhibitions deal with the Gilded Age and its aftereffects.

The Landmarks of New York features thirty photographs of significant New York buildings and spaces, some of which were built during the Gilded Age. Sadly, many of these buildings no longer exist. Margi Hofer, Curator of Decorative Arts, explains, “Perhaps one of the reasons New Yorkers are intrigued by this period is that so much of the architecture and interior decoration has gone the way of the wrecking ball.  We need to fire up our imagination to conjure the world that Edith Wharton describes in her novels. While some of these ‘cottages’ survive in Newport and elsewhere, the great mansions of New Yorkers are nearly all gone.”

Opening in the fall, Beauty’s Legacy: Gilded Age Portraits in America will examine the remarkable critical and popular resurgence of portraiture in the United States during the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth century. Many fortunes were made during the economic boom of the north and midwest, and with those fortunes came the impetus to document the appearance of those who propelled and benefited from burgeoning wealth. However, as the Gilded Age faded into the Progressive Era, the art world would be in for quite a shock. In 1913 the famous New York Armory Show would showcase works from the likes of Paul Cezanne, Marcel Duchamp, Pablo Picasso, and Paul Gauguin for the first time ever in America. The Armory Show at 100 will feature many of the original works from the Armory Show that caused such a scandal a century ago.

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1939: John Rogers’s Comeback Year

81101a Travelers Insurance Calendar Rogers January

In honor of our upcoming exhibition, John Rogers: American Stories, curator Kim Orcutt will be writing a series of posts about his life, his work, and how he earned the nickname “The People’s Sculptor.”

In 1939, the Travelers Insurance Company rang in the New Year with a gift to its customers: a monthly calendar illustrated with Rogers Groups. The sculptor John Rogers was wildly popular fifty years earlier, selling an estimated 80,000 of his small narrative plasters from the 1860s through the 1890s. But why did Travelers think that their customers would want to see his work on their walls nearly a half century later?

Rogers’ story-telling vignettes packed with meticulous detail were an indispensable part of a proper Victorian parlor, but tastes began to change in the late nineteenth century and they lost their charm. As modernist styles came into vogue in the early 1900s, newly chic Americans relegated the sculptures to their attics.

Artists with long careers often fall out of favor in their later years, and it’s not surprising that Rogers’ work met that fate. What is startling is how quickly it returned. In the 1920s, collectors began searching out his sculptures for their nostalgic value as Americana, and by the 1930s they were in high demand. The 1939 Travelers Insurance Company calendar acknowledged that Rogers had made a comeback, and his works were bringing insight and comfort to Americans in a decade marked by a crippling depression and international tensions that would soon lead to war.

Ever since, Rogers Groups can be found in cultural institutions all over the country and in private collections, which were sometimes opened to the public as populist “museums” (Rogers, a great advocate for democratic art, would have liked that). Visit our John Rogers site see what critics said about Rogers as his reputation rose and fell—and rose again!

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