Rinker on Collectibles

RINKER ON COLLECTIBLES — Column #1804

The Last Things I Want To See Before I Die

Two things prompted me to write this column. Since I am not planning to die anytime soon, this was not one of them. Frank Horton, the guiding force behind the Museum of Early Southern Decorative Arts (MESDA), was a mentor. When he was hospitalized for the last time, he selected a few items from his extensive early American/Southern antique collection and had them moved to his hospital room. When I visited him to say farewell, I asked him why. “These are the last things I want to see before I die,” he replied.

When advising people what to sell, keep, or toss during downsizing, I tell them to start by setting aside the things that evoke the strongest memories with no consideration toward value. For the past several years, I have been working on a list of ten objects I want to see in the final moments of my life. This list is important because these are the objects that I will never sell.

[Author’s Aside #1: Just as I am in no hurry to die, I also am in no hurry to dispose of my collections. With deep regret and sadness, I have reached the inevitable conclusion that dying with my collections is not a wise dispersal approach. In reality, I probably held on to them longer than I should. I keep telling myself not this year, not years, but soon.]

My list is object oriented. There are no human beings on it. I am not enamored by the idea of individuals standing or sitting around my bedside waiting for me to die. I see no humor or sense in it. Remember me as I lived and not how I died. Nonetheless, I am wise enough to know when the time comes, I will have little control over this aspect of my death.

As my object list developed, I realized the selected objects represented memories associated with key periods of my life. As such, they will appear chronologically in this column. I selected this approach because I did not consider one object more important than the others. Each object is precious, not from a monetary point of view but for the memories, stories, and wonders each evokes.

[Author’s Aside #2: Early versions of my list focused exclusively on antiques and collectibles, most of which I bought plus a few family heirlooms. As I analyzed the list, I realized it was financially driven. The majority of the objects were my high-ticket antiques and collectibles. The focus was wrong. I need to practice what I preach.]

This column’s length does not permit me to share the many reasons why each object is on the list. Regular “Rinker on Collectibles” readers will recognize that I shared some of the back stories in previous columns.

My parents were products of the Depression and World War II. In addition to having a strong work ethic, they were fiscal conservatives. Although there was no sign hanging on the wall of our home that read “Save Your Money,” it was a philosophy that was drummed into me from the beginning. The first item on my list is my childhood Hubley, painted, cast-iron elephant bank. It was a tough choice between this bank and my infant, wind-up, trip the music when you inserted a coin, Old King Cole bank. I saved the elephant. My mother saved the latter and eventually passed it on to me.

I lived in Hellertown, Pennsylvania, from the fall of 1948 until the fall of 1959 when I left to attend Lehigh University. My mother was born in Hellertown and graduated from Hellertown High School in 1924. I have a picture of her graduating glass. The picture includes several of the graduates holding a felt Class of 1924 pennant. I own that pennant. The pennant represents my roots – Pennsylvania German, small town, family (I had 28 aunts and uncles and 29 first cousins), and heritage. Most of my ancestors are buried within a 15-mile radius of Hellertown.

Although politically incorrect now, my Marx Jazzbo Jim windup toy, which belonged initially to my father, made its magical annual appearance the Friday after Thanksgiving when my father and I set up the Christmas putz (train platform) and tree. The period box is gone, but the Jazzbo Jim remains and still works. He still dances on the roof of his cabin in late November and throughout December.

My Boy Scout merit badge sash is a reminder of how much I learned and the adventures I experienced earning the badges. I was an Eagle Scout when I was 12, earning the rank 18 months after joining the Boy Scouts. The first three badges on the sash were for coin collecting, my stamp collection, and rocks and minerals. At the time, I had no idea they were indicators of my professional career. My red Philmont jacket covered with patches for which I traded at the 1957 Boy Scout Jamboree at Valley Forge was a close second choice.

Black and white television had a strong impact on my youth. My Dad and I were addicted to TV westerns. Hopalong Cassidy was my childhood hero. The Hopalong Cassidy alarm clock was the most prized item in my extensive Hoppy memorabilia collection. I received one for Christmas in the early 1950s. It disappeared over time. My wife Linda surprised me with a gift of a period example early in our marriage. Although not the one that I originally owned, it is close enough.

When I attended Lehigh University in the fall of 1959, freshmen were required to wear dinks. I still have mine. Lehigh’s influence on me was profound. It shaped my maturity and fostered the strong sense of curiosity that governs my life. The dink won over a T-shirt presented to the dates of my dorm section during a House Party weekend with the wording “LEHIGH PIECE CORPS.” Unlike former New York Governor Cuomo, I know how far the boundaries of correctness have shifted since the early 1960s.

The Erie Canal, American Views, English Staffordshire, cobalt blue chamber pot and lid, the most expensive item on the list, was selected to represent the nearly two decades I spend studying and collecting artifacts from the American mule-drawn canal era. I was one of the founders of the Pennsylvania Canal Society and served as its first president from 1966 to 1976.

In 1968, I traveled behind the iron curtain spending the month of May in Communist East Germany. I was the first American visitor following World War II to stay more than a few days in the Moravian village of Herrnhut. While in Herrnhut, I copied records pertaining to the Moravian settlements in Bethlehem, Nazareth, and Salem (North Carolina). I made friends with members of the Herrnhut photography club. I had a later American visitor smuggle in a Gossen Luna Pro light meter as a gift to the club. In turn, the Herrnhut club prepared a photo album of their town and had it smuggled out to me. I made two more visits to East Germany before the wall came down. Assuming I write my memoirs, these trips will require at least two chapters.

During the Beanie Baby craze, I did a personal appearance at the Indianapolis Antiques Show. There I was presented a statuette with a Beanie Baby skunk nailed to a wooden cross. The base read: “PRESENTED / TO / HARRY L. RINKER / SPEAKER OF THE TRUTH / FROM THE DEALERS IN / CENTRAL INDIANA WHO / REFUSE TO SELL TY ITEMS.” It was signed by several dozen dealers. The statuette sits atop the cabinet attached to my desk. I see it multiple times every day. It is a constant reminder that I was never alone in my opinions and attitudes to what was and is important to the antiques and collectibles trade.

The choice of one object that represented my antiques and collectibles career was the toughest choice for my list. I am surrounded by objects, each of which conjures up numerous memories, stories, and wonder. In the end, I decided upon a copy or Frank Hill’s and my “Craving More With Craven Moore” published by Wallace-Homestead in 1985. The book featured two pairs of cartoon characters – Craven Moore and his wife Anita Moore and an old fart, traditionalist couple name Howie Buys and his wife Constantly Buys. Craven Moore was and remains me. I also own the original artwork and may choose my favorite of the cartoons and frame it. But, for the moment, the book itself is on the list.

For those who know me, the list will contain a few surprises. It is a list of who I was and am. It is how I view myself, not how others do.

Final Note: My initial list was much longer. Selecting the final ten was gut wrenching. I reviewed the longer list and decided I would add one bonus item – my Pennsylvania NOITAL license plate. The plate is in honor of my first two wives. It will be engraved on my tombstone with the caption: “His license plate said it all.”

Harry L. Rinker welcomes questions from readers about collectibles, those mass-produced items from the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Selected letters will be answered in this column. Harry cannot provide personal answers. Photos and other material submitted cannot be returned. Send your questions to: Rinker on Collectibles, 5955 Mill Point Court SE, Kentwood, MI 49512. You also can e-mail your questions to harrylrinker@aol.com. Only e-mails containing a full name and mailing address will be considered.

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