Chauncy Olcott was a superstar in his day, but since that day was over a century ago he is no longer a household name. He wrote and performed songs like “My Wild Irish Rose” and “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling” that are still heard every March 17. This was his summer home; the postcard was published after his death in 1932 and he actually moved to Monte Carlo full-time for health reasons in 1925. When someone is publishing postcards of your house years after you stayed there, that’s a pretty big deal.
Photo note: The card had just enough of a curl in it that I could not get a good photo. Yes, I could have put it in a press or taped it down, but as long as I’m still unpacking such fine touches will have to wait.
I had to pause the blog for a bit because I was moving, from Great Diamond Island to Camden, Maine. It seems I’ve accumulated a lot of stuff over the years, so this became an all-consuming endeavor. Now that I’m settled into my new home, posts here should resume their regularity. In three weeks I still haven’t located the box containing my postcards, though.
Don’t worry, we’ll learn more about Bemus Point in the weeks and months ahead.
I sent this to a relative in Tampa at a time when there was a spate of sinkholes in the area that were getting national attention. I thought they might try the slogan “Now more sunken than ever!”. It would have been nice to visit here, but the chances seem slim now that I have no relatives anywhere nearby.
I mailed this to a friend who had the recently-planted tree in front of his house mowed down by a drunk driver. He was caught when video footage from a nearby gas station captured a vehicle with branches sticking out of it.
(Don’t worry, I’ll have more to say about carving gift shops and automobile tunnels into California redwoods in future posts)
If you haven’t noticed, my favorite postcards are the linen cards of the 1930s to 1950s. Color photography killed those off, and with it an entire genre of graphic design that as far as I can tell remains forgotten. One of the problems with color photography is composition. A linen version of this tree would not have included a fragment of a telephone pole on the left and a fragment of a tree on the right. It certainly would not have cropped off the top of the tree of interest. All the more remarkable is that it was published by the premier linen postcard publisher, Curt Teich, here under the moniker Curteichcolor. But the world is full of examples of stalwart companies failing to navigate a technological revolution.
This is the first postcard I’ve received since starting this blog, and while I don’t know if I’ll post everything I receive, so far the pace is quite manageable.