Shoes in the 1880s

I was looking for some old family photographs with shoes for this week's Sepia Saturday and came up empty handed. Nearly every photo seems to cut off the feet and shoes. For all I know they sat for portraits with no shoes on at all. I do have some very nice shoe advertisements from the 1880s though. One of my favorites is the trade card featuring solar tip shoes.

I somehow had this idea that solar tip shoes would be open in the front, allowing the sun to warm your toes. Not so. Instead, they were especially durable tips made by folding the sole leather over the tip of the shoe.

This is one of the few trade cards for shoes that highlights the shoes at all. Many of the advertisements simply showed heartwarming scenes that had nothing to do with shoes, like this one:

And this one:

Many just had their business name printed on stock advertising cards. These could just as well have been ads for a grocery store or watch repair.

So, I had to wonder what the shoes of the 1880s were really like. I know that women's shoes had a high heel and a narrow toe and didn't look comfortable at all. On the other hand, when I went to the Wisconsin Historical Museum's online collection to look at the examples of children's footwear of the era, they not only seem well made, they look soft and comfortable. You can see the shoe collection here.

Step on over to Sepia Saturday to see more posts on shoes.

Dear Brother Walter...

One of the most popular posts on this blog, for reasons totally unknown to me, is another card sent to Walter Till.  I'm perplexed by its popularity, because I just don't understand it.

Anyway, on to brother Walter.  The birthday card that is viewed so often for unknown reasons, is from 1916. This one is from 1919.

It's a lovely card, but it wouldn't be my first choice for a 9-year-old boy.  The message on the back of the card reads:

5/2/19

Dear Brother Walter

I came near forgetting when your birthday was but dident. here is just a card hoping you have a happy one suppose you will be 9 years old Sun. you want to see how good a boy you can be from now on let Jesus help you

Love from Sister Laura

It started to seem more likely to me, after looking at previous cards, that "brother" was meant in a religious sense, but then I found that Walter actually did have an older sister named Laura. In fact, he had 10 siblings. The 1920 Census shows Walter, the youngest at age 9, living with his siblings, George (11), Edna (13), and Jennie (15) and their mother Julia E. Till. There is no indication of a father in the household, because the father died a few months after Walter's 9th birthday. Walter also had a younger brother who only lived to the age of four.

I looked for more information on Ancestry.com and was surprised to find photos of Walter and his siblings. There's our little Walter on the right.

And there's Jennie on the left. Here's a postcard addressed to Jennie.

The message on the back reads:

Dear Jennie: -

Come up and see the School house fore your self. my room is where the X is. I wish you a happy easter. your friend Bertha.

Train Disaster at Wellington

This doesn't look like a train disaster card, does it? It's a perfect example of a relatively plain card with a very poignant message. It hardly matters what's on the front. I was looking for cards to post for St. Patrick's Day when I came upon this one. The news is not very cheerful, so I thought I'd post it on a day other than the holiday.

Grace sent this card from Seattle to Miss Sara Clark in Dexter, New York on March 10, 1910.
The message reads:

Dear friend, - You had all better come west here to live. Although we have had a very bad winter. Suppose you have read of that awful avalanche on the Great Northern. It seems terrible here, for we are so close. They are bringing many of the bodies here. Love to all,

Grace.

It reminded me of the tragic Washington avalanche this last weekend that killed three skiers at Stevens Pass. The 1910 avalanche was also near Stevens Pass, but was much more severe and much deadlier. It swept away two Northern Pacific trains and claimed the lives of 96 victims. You can read more about the disaster at HistoryLink. You may also want to look at the Wellington Avalanche website.

Afterwards, the small railroad town of Wellington changed its name to Tye (after the Tye river) because of the negative association with the disaster. Tye became a ghost town after the second Cascade tunnel was opened in 1929.

Here's a photo of the aftermath of the avalanche, with blanket-wrapped bodies being prepared for transport. The photo is courtesy of Paul Dorpat, a historian who writes for the Seattle Times Sunday Magazine and has a superb website.

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