My Ties to Tie Clips

When I was in college, I played the contrabass clarinet in the concert band. The contrabass is a huge clarinet, pitched two octaves below the standard clarinet in Bb. It is over six feet tall and must be played standing up. This configuration posed an unusual problem.

Single-reed player Jay Easton playing the Bb contrabass clarinet, showing the size of the instrument. His website additionally features many unusual clarinets and saxophones. Click here to listen to him playing the instrument (Mr. Easton plays in a modern style; I also enjoyed playing more traditional melodies).

I had to wear a necktie for many concerts, with the result that the tie would swing forward and interfere with the keywork on the instrument. When I explained this to my musician grandfather, he replied that he had a present for me.

Clarinet octave key tie clip.

It turned out to be a tie clip made from the octave key of a clarinet. This solved the problem in a most perfect and suitable way. You can imagine how happy I was to locate the clip recently in a box of small items I had in storage.

The tie clip compared to the octave key of a standard soprano Bb clarinet.

I treasure this tie clip because it has memories both of playing in the band and of my grandfather, who after a career as a professional tuba player, settled down in Canton, Ohio and had his own music store.

A pencil from my grandfather's music store.

At the same time he gave me the clarinet tie clip, he also gave me this set of tie clip and cuff links, shaped like grand pianos.

That box contained a number of other novelty tie clips, mostly gathered as fun collectibles that reflected other interests. I never wore any except the clarinet key, and that one not since college. Here are a few favorites:

For a while I had a metal detector, and while they do work, the learning curve is considerable. Any detectorist will confirm that what you mostly find are those old pull tabs from beverage cans. So I really enjoyed the humor of this tie clip, which is not made from a real pull tab, but is a specially made solid piece of jewelry.

I love hand tools and anything to do with them, including these vintage tie clips.

This thermometer tie clip really works, and the scale is printed horizontally so that it can be easily read when worn.

From the handcuff theme, this is obviously a policeman's tie clip. It came with a money clip marked for the Cleveland Police. It probably wouldn't hurt to wear this one while driving.

Everyone from Cleveland knows the Cleveland-Cliffs company, long a giant in the mining and shipping of ore. This tie clip shows the ship Edward B. Greene, named for the president of the company in the 1930's.

You may recall my post on the wooden Budai statue. Here he is in triplicate, as a tie clip and cuff link set. (Although made of ivory, this set certainly pre-dates any ban on that substance.)

The Budai are all carved very well. Even on the underside which does not show, the feet and toes are clearly defined.

When I started collecting items, I trained myself to recognize real amber, tortoiseshell, etc. That skill came in handy when rescuing this amber tie tack from the twenty-five cent box.

Perhaps my most amazing tie clip was a present from my sister. (We have an ongoing contest to see who can find the best presents for each other. I can assure you that the competition is fierce.) When we were growing up, we used a silverware pattern called Flair, made by Rogers Brothers and originally produced in the 1950's. We loved this set which embodied many happy memories for us. 

In recent years we have even augmented our holdings of Flair, adding serving pieces, baby sets, and the like. Imagine my surprise when my sister came up with this Flair tie clip, which must have been made in the '50's for the use of salesmen selling Rogers silver. I cannot imagine there are many of these around.

The Rogers Brothers Flair pattern tie clip. Like the pull tab, this was specially made as jewelry, not cut down from some utensil.

The tie clip next to a Flair demitasse spoon for comparison.

The clarinet key tie clip was a real life saver, while the others were collected out of a sense of fun, each representing an interest in my life. Let me know if you have a favorite among these, or if you have a favorite piece of jewelry with a story behind it.






All photographs and original objects property of the author.

Yale 1870, Dressed for the Pump

This post is a blog-response to Reggie Darling’s coverage of the Ivy Style show, which emphasizes the collegiate look present on many campuses in the 1920’s-1960’s period. It is interesting to turn the clock back a little farther to see how the college beau was arrayed in the nineteenth century.

In older photos, students seemed to be even more formally attired, although perhaps missing a cohesive college look. It must be kept in mind that back then there were few casual photos or snap-shots, so people might appear dressier in photos than they often were, yet a natty or formal appearance was the norm. One of the old photos I brought to Taiwan features a group of student, yet even in the pictures mainly of buildings, the occasional students seen on the pathways all are as properly dressed as these here:

 A congenial group of Yale students, click to enlarge 

This photo depicts a group of Yale students from the class of 1870, so the photo is from that year or possibly the late 1860’s.  They are surrounding the South Pump, located next to the Old Laboratory, the brick building in the photo. (There was also a North Pump, but I’ll save that for another day.) One can imagine these pumps were quite the campus gathering spots, especially in those post-Civil War days when there weren’t too many spots on campus to get a simple drink of water.

For those familiar with Yale’s Old Campus, this scene of pump and laboratory is roughly between McClellan and Vanderbilt halls, and the white house in back is about where Linsley-Chittenden is now.

While these students are individually well dressed, their clothes are not similar, and represent a variety of types and colors of suits. The hats are even more noticeable—I count three top hats, four derby-like hats, one cap and one possible straw hat.

Beside the sartorial element of this photo, I find the commercial aspect interesting, that the pump, very internal to the campus,  is covered with advertisements, but no Yale-related announcements, unless you consider the seven banners for Coe’s Dyspepsia Cure a critical comment on the Yale Dining Hall of the period.

I’ll have to get hold of the Ivy Style catalog to see how they cover the early roots of their subject. Moreover, when I can find the time, I will use more old photos to divine the Precursors of Ivy Style.

Photo property of the author.

A Cryptic Message from Old Yale

 When I found this postcard depicting Yale’s Alumni Hall, I was intrigued by its odd inscription, “The House of Terror”. This vivid comment makes us wonder just what was so horrific about this building. 

The mystery postcard

We conjure up mental images of recalcitrant alumni being forced finally to make that donation, through means too awful to name aloud. Supporting this, we can see a couple of what look like Durfee residents lurking behind an elm tree in obvious fear of the building.

Better make a run for it.

Although Alumni Hall is long gone, Yale must still employ some of the same techniques; its fund-raising efforts seem more successful than generosity alone could account for. Consider that its recent fund drive, ending just last June, raised nearly four billion dollars.

What's left of Alumni Hall

Here is more evidence of the nefarious nature of Alumni Hall’s activities: after its demolition, the towers were saved and re-erected by Yale’s notorious Skull and Bones Society. Hidden in the rear courtyard of the Skull and Bones Tomb, who knows what dark rituals are yet performed there.

The Towers today, with their simplified battlements.

 

Aerial view today, showing the twin octagonal towers.

Alumni Hall was built in 1853, designed by one of the great architects of the day, Alexander Jackson Davis. Two of his iconic buildings are the New York Customs House, the emblem of Wall Street, and the Gothic Revival masterpiece Lyndhurst in Tarrytown, New York. The present photo of Alumni Hall was copyright in 1901, and the building was razed in 1911 to build the still-standing Wright Hall.

The Wadsworth Atheneum

 
  Although its symmetry makes it less romantic than some Gothic Revival structures, we can see Alumni Hall’s relation to other Davis buildings. The Wadsworth Atheneum in Hartford has a similar entry pavilion flanked by towers, and Alumni Hall’s octagonal crenellated towers themselves are echoed in Davis’ design for Tudor Villa in New Rochelle, New York.

Tudor Villa, another Davis building

With all this in mind, I set out to unravel the mystery. I thought perhaps the caption was once a catch-phrase, and tried to look it up, but unfortunately “House of Terror” now has a much darker and more literal meaning than it ever could have then. The kind of terrorism which today has become prevalent underscores the innocence of that day over one hundred years ago.

Some further digging reveals the probable source of the writer’s trepidation. It turns out that Alumni Hall was basically one large room. Written examinations were an innovation in the 1850’s, and term exams were held in Alumni Hall. In fact, some of the original exam tables are still to be seen in the Yale Art Gallery.

Even in the early twentieth century, the typical student at Yale was not always the brilliant scholar type, and we can finally see this photo of Alumni Hall through the anonymous writer’s eyes.

By 1911, its function was largely passé, with more classroom buildings present and likely changes in the exams themselves. Still, it is too bad that no use could be found to preserve this masterpiece by one of the period's and New Haven's most important architects.