Posted on November 17th, 2014 by Rachel
Today we have two pieces from a larger set of porcelain dinnerware, owned by the Hutzler family of Baltimore.
Sauce boat (JMM 1995.137.001) and dessert plate (JMM 1993.161.001), circa 1878.
We have a sauce boat, with molded (attached) underplate, 9 inches long; and a dessert plate, 8.5 inches in diameter. The decoration manages to be both elaborate and – at least compared to some other examples of late 19th century French porcelain – fairly restrained: the pink is bright and the morning glories are plentiful, but the gilding is kept to a minimum, and the entwined initials (off to the side on the plate, and on one end of the boat) are relatively subtle. Both pieces are marked on the reverse with the cartouche of Adolphe Hache & Pepin LeHalleur of Vierzon and Paris, France. Hache & LeHalleur, a porcelain decorating firm, exhibited at the 1876 Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia, and won a Gold Medal at the 1878 Paris Exposition. (That 1878 award was proudly added to the maker’s mark, as you can see from the photo below.)
The reverse of the dessert plate: “1878 Méd.e D’or [Médaille D’or (Gold Medal)] Paris / Ad. Hache & Pepin LeHalleur / Vierzon [and] Paris”
The custom initials on each piece, an H flanked by a D and an E, stand for David and Ella Hutzler, the original owners of the full dinnerware set. In 1874, David Hutzler (1843-1915), one of the three brothers who founded Baltimore’s Hutzler Bros. high-end department store, married Ella Joline Gutman (1855-1942), daughter of Joel Gutman, who owned a neighboring high-end shop.
According to family stories, “Grandfather Hutzler” (David) commissioned the full dinnerware set “at the Paris Exposition.” But which Paris Exposition? The maker’s mark dates from between 1878, when Hache & LeHalleur won their award, to 1889, when the firm’s name (and mark) changed. That gives us the 1878 and 1889 options to choose from, and I lean toward the 1878 Paris World’s Fair or Exposition as the origin of our dinnerware set. Something sold directly at the Exposition would not have that “We won an award!” mark on it already (unless the firm was very confident, I suppose), but it makes sense that porcelain custom-ordered at the fair, then manufactured afterward, would include mention of the maker’s just-awarded Gold Medal.
A close-up view of the decorations on each piece, including the elaborately entwined initials.
A side note on the color: Today, we tend to associate pink so closely with femininity and girlishness that it’s easy to apply those same attributes to antique pink… but we shouldn’t necessarily do so. Not only was pink an entirely appropriate color for boys until the early 20th century, but this particular shade of “French pink,” introduced by Sevres in the mid-18th century, was a very popular ground color for china and porcelain. The Hutzlers showed good taste in acquiring a fashionable, expensive, and custom-made set, and no doubt they enjoyed serving family and friends from their French porcelain.
After Ella died in 1942, her children made an inventory of the family home on Eutaw Place in order to appropriately distribute their parents’ belongings. A “pink Limoges set of china” – almost certainly the set from which these pieces originated – was listed next to son Albert’s name; the set was likely divided up further and given to the younger generations as time passed. Our dessert plate was donated by Albert’s daughter, Caroline Hutzler Bernstein; the gravy boat came to us from Patsy Perlman, one of David and Ella’s great-granddaughters through their daughter Cora.
Though we don’t have the full set (no pink-china dinner party vignettes for our museum, alas!) these two pieces help us illustrate a variety of stories, from Baltimore residents’ access to European fine goods, to a well-to-do couple’s use and display of said goods, to the way a family deals with a deceased parent’s estate. When browsing my “blog post potential” list today the dessert plate caught my eye, thanks to its charming decorations; but when you look closer, there’s much more to it than just what’s on the surface.
A blog post by Collections Manager Joanna Church. To read more posts from Joanna click HERE. To read even more posts about our collections click HERE.
Posted on October 13th, 2014 by Rachel
Thanks to our online database, much of our collections can be investigated from the comfort of your own home. Hopefully, you’ve already read and tested our earlier posts on researching in the database (here are parts one, two, and three). But you may not have tried out the “random images” feature, which chooses an assortment of photos, artifacts, and archival records for your enjoyment. You don’t need a specific research query to spend some quality time with our stuff!
The “random” function proved useful this week, as I went looking for something to feature on the blog. My eye was caught by this pair of silver-colored metal cufflinks, each with a bold Hebrew “Mazel” on the front (and, for good measure, “LUCK” in English on the back).
Maryland Governor Theodore R. McKeldin was the owner of these cufflinks. McKeldin is an important figure in Maryland politics – he was Baltimore’s mayor in the 1940s and again in the 1960s, as well as serving two terms as governor from 1951 to 1959 – and he was a strong supporter of Baltimore’s diverse communities. To paraphrase an often-repeated story, McKeldin (an Episcopalian) was said to ‘carry a cross in one pocket and a yarmulke in the other.’ That line is sometimes used negatively, hinting he was too much of a people-pleaser, but it can also be taken as a sign of his willingness to engage and work with the Jewish community. Further evidence for this can be found in our museum, thanks in part to a small collection of personal tokens given to McKeldin by Jewish Marylanders over the years. These items were saved by McKeldin, and eventually donated to the JMM by his granddaughter Caroline Wayner.
2010.62.1 full set
These cufflinks, and the matching tie clip, were part of that donation. We don’t know who gave the set to McKeldin, but we do have a clue as to its origins: The pieces are in their original velvet box, marked “The Concord Men’s Shop, Kiamesha Lake N.Y.” The Concord Resort Hotel in Kiamesha Lake was one of the largest resorts in the Catskills in the mid 20th century; evidently someone from Maryland was vacationing there, spotted these in one of the shops catering to resort visitors, and thought kindly enough of their Governor to make the purchase.
A blog post by Collections Manager Joanna Church. To read more posts from Joanna click HERE.
Posted on September 29th, 2014 by Rachel
Greetings, blog readers! My name is Joanna Church, and I’m the new Collections Manager at the JMM. There’s something a little nerve-wracking about starting a new job; before starting here, I wondered: What will the office be like? How tricky is the commute? Will the new colleagues be pleasant? And is there a coffee maker?* For those of us who work with museum collections, however, there’s one almost-guarantee when joining the staff of a new museum: The collections themselves – no matter what they actually are – will be interesting. In my few weeks here at the JMM, this has definitely proved to be true.
I am a Maryland native, but new to Baltimore. Searching our database for something first-blog-post-appropriate, I found a foam hat that says “Welcome to Baltimore.” Thank you, hat!
1992.190.001, front view
This old-fashioned hat, with a four inch high crown, was made around 1990, mimicking the style of a circa 1900s boater (right down to the ‘woven straw’ look to the molded foam). The printed paper ‘ribbon’ around the crown reads in full, “Welcome to Baltimore UAHC NFTS ’91.” The donor, E.B. Hirsh, was one of thousands of delegates to the Union of American Hebrew Congregations/National Federation of Temple Sisterhoods biennial convention, held in Baltimore from October 31st to November 5th, 1991.
1992.190.001, side view
According to the Baltimore Sun there were plenty of important issues discussed at this meeting of representatives from over 850 Reform synagogues. Nevertheless, what’s a convention without a party? Our hat and its welcoming message have an opening-day-festivities vibe, suggesting that there were opportunities for fun amidst the more serious activities. (If any readers attended the conference and can share some info, please do!)
As for the type of hat itself, straw boaters or “skimmers” were popular summer headwear for men and women in the late 19th – early 20th centuries. Here are a few Baltimore residents sporting the style in 1924:
Abe Sherman, his father Moses, and two unidentified men at Abe Sherman’s newsstand in Battle Monument Square, August 1924. Donated to the JMM by Brig. Gen. Philip Sherman. 1989.021.001
By the 1950s, however, the boater had dwindled from everyday garb to costume, and it is most likely to be seen today on members of a barbershop quartet; actors in a production of, say, “The Music Man;” or attendees at a political rally. Though I can’t tell you exactly why a boater became appropriate convention-wear, it’s enough of a stylistic trope that plastic and Styrofoam hats are marketed specifically for these events. Our example was manufactured in the U.S. by the Lewtan Line, a company founded in 1947 by Marvin Lewtan.
…As you may have guessed by now, things are my thing. I look forward to sharing more of the stories and histories of the JMM’s fabulous artifacts, images, and archival records!
*Answers: Great; not bad so far; absolutely; and (thankfully) yes.
A blog post by Collections Manager Joanna Church.