The message on the back of this 113-year-old postcard reads:
Dear Edwin-
This not a very good picture of Jerry but you can tell what he looks like. -KM
The message on the back of this 113-year-old postcard reads:
Dear Edwin-
This not a very good picture of Jerry but you can tell what he looks like. -KM
This piece of handiwork is what’s known as a large-letter postcard, made from cutting up older postcards.
Recent work on the Duluth Plumbing Supply building at 322 W. Michigan St. — now SPS Companies — has made more visible the words painted on the back side more than a century ago. The bottom line reads “Wholesale Flour, Feed, Grain and Hay.” The top line originally read “Wright-Clarkson Mercantile Co.” but appears to have later been painted over with some other words.
The old-timey photo is via Shorpy and is dated “circa 1905.” St. Louis County property tax records list the building as constructed in 1910, but that’s potentially not accurate.
Many early studio photographers around Duluth printed their photographs on flowery pre-printed cabinet cards, often with their names prominently displayed. Often the name of the person photographed is lost to history, but we can easily locate the photographer in the records more than 100 years later.
I recently came across two photos of a couple strong Duluth women in an unidentified Duluth hardware store on Minnesota Reflections. There is no accurate date or known specific location (there is a guesstimate year span on this one of 1918-1925, which seems quite unlikely due to their stylish high-collar/big sleeve clothing). Who were they? What year was this? And would they tolerate any nonsense? Unlikely.
One-hundred years ago today, Duluth was still reeling from the devastating fires of the previous week. The Duluth Herald ran a small article celebrating the efforts during the fire of a relatively new worker in Duluth: a female conductor on the Street Railway.
Have you ever wanted to travel back in time? Not to brag or anything, but I have figured out a way to time travel. I can usually manage to go back a few decades, maybe a couple hundred years at most. I can’t stay for long, and I’ve yet to taste or actually touch a cup of tea from 1915, despite a fervent desire. I’m more like a traveler passing through, a tourist in a world different than mine, peering in from the side, presuming to understand what is going on around me.
This world can only be reached through research and imagination, and with the determination of a detective piecing together scraps of evidence. It also depends on helpful archivists, online databases and the support of public grant money and fellow dedicated history nerds. The path is sometimes long and slow, a little bit dusty, but sometimes it pulls us along with the thrill of the hunt and a spectacular find, like a full-on glimpse of faces, journals, conversations and the insides of shops. Tracking down history mysteries is an addicting little hobby.
The recent purchase of a 102-year-old building at 1917 W. Superior St. by the Duluth Folk School led to an off-hand request for more information about the building’s history. I found myself drawn into this request, spending free time browsing 1915 online editions of the Duluth Herald from the comfort of my computer desk, no dusty pages required courtesy of public access grants and diligent scanners. The new owners and I knew some facts, and now we wanted to see what that place had looked like when it was built. I had a hunch some pretty good time travel was possible.